Dangerous Games
by Lunalelle
Summary: COMPLETE! An analogy between JekyllHyde and Tom RiddleVoldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime.
1. Fateful Disaster, Little Hope

**Title:** Dangerous Games (01-02)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Horror  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Jekyll Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark for me, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I will make a detailed bibliography at the end, where I'll explain everything.  
**Author notes:** I have way too much time on my hands, a Jekyll and Hyde analogy...? I had fun with it though. Thanx many times to my beta, Lara. Flying penguins, floating Amidalas, and Tall Tenacious Butt-boys to everyone. Remember, 'slotted spoons don't hold much soup,' but 'the slotted spoon can catch the potato.'

_**Dangerous Games:**_

_What happens to a dream deferred..._

-Langston Hughes

**Chapter 1: Fateful Disaster**

_Distinguished governors,_

_I have glimpsed the future,_

_Seen miracles that stun the mind,_

_And marvels only science can find_

_To shape tomorrow for mankind,_

_And I can show them to you,_

_If you wish me to._

-JEKYLL & HYDE

_"Did you ever remark that door?" he asked; and when his companion had replied in the affirmative, "It is connected in my mind," added he, "with a very odd story."_

-Robert Louis Stevenson, DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

Hermione hurried from her nightly session in the library. She had taken to haunting the library since her first day back, and being Head Girl, she was allowed certain privileges-- which made completing coursework for her NEWTs much easier. Not only could she roam the halls after hours, but the Time-Turner was once again in her possession.

Lately, she had been living in thirty-six hour days. Not just living, but reveling. Something Harry and Ron never understood about her previous experience with the Time-Turner was that, despite the strain, she had secretly enjoyed the extra hours she had used to learn more. What repulsed her friends so much was pleasantly seductive to her. When her friends groaned at their mounting piles of homework, Hermione could not get her books, quills, parchment, and ink out fast enough. Harry and Ron often teased her for her readiness to learn and do work, but then they marveled at the way Hermione could continue to surpass even Percy in her studies but still had sufficient time to participate in the New Marauders' escapades.

Hermione had slowly been feeling more and more distant from her friends since school had started. Every morning, she looked in the mirror and wondered if she could take another day with those two boys. Harry was all right by himself, but Ron's recently acquired immaturity, worse than before, seemed to rub off on those within a nine-foot radius. As much as she loved Ron, she had to acknowledge that he was a typical adolescent. Harry followed Ron more than he spent time with Hermione, and Hermione knew the reason for this alienation was simply because he was intrigued more by the prospect of remaining a child rather than growing up. He had enough of that when he was thinking of Voldemort, and it did not suit his interests. They was still close friends, but time spent with each other was becoming more scarce between their divided priorities. Ron, of course, _was_ the person whom Harry would miss most as revealed during the second trial during fourth year, not Hermione.

Hermione mourned the slow loss of her closest friend, but she knew she could at least survive with her other less animate friends. Madam Pince had given Hermione free reign in the library, and Hermione relished her new freedom and knowledge like they were heaven's nectar.

What really bothered her, she now thought to herself as she locked the library door, was not so much that Harry and Ron were one, but that no one seemed to notice. She was just that girl over there who always put up her hand during lessons and got everything right, saving everyone else the trouble of doing any work, Io forbid that anyone should think. She was just that girl over there who, it seemed practically housed herself with books. She was just ordinary Hermione. And she longed for someone to see that and accept her like she was.

She was so lost in her miserable thoughts and she carried so many thick tomes, Hermione did not notice the staircase she was approaching. With a startled shriek, Hermione slipped her hold on her books and lost her booting. She tumbled down the long flight of marble, dislocating her right shoulders, breaking her left wrist and thumb, and twisting her left knee. The sound of breaking bones echoed down the empty corridor. Finally reaching the end of the staircase, her head crashed into the floor. She was unconscious almost immediately. Unbeknownst to her, the Time-Turner had been spinning of its own accord during her tumble many, many times, and when she hit the bottom, the Turner was caught between the back of her head and the floor, shattering into a million tiny shards of glass and sand which scattered in Hermione's bushy hair.

Filch, attracted by the racket, came rushing into that particular corridor, bellowing, "Peeves! I'll have you this time!"

But he stopped in his tracks when he saw the pile of books strewn on the staircase. He stepped onto a stair, and, with a shudder, the staircase started switching to connect to an alternate corridor. Filch cursed, but proceeded to collect the books from the stairs, swearing he would talk to Dumbledore again with yet another proposal for Peeves's expulsion.

As the staircase trembled, the shards of glass were swept into the empty space where the stairs once were.

888

_Look at me and tell me who I am,_

_Why I am- What I am_

_Call me a fool and it's true I am_

_I don't know who I am._

_It's such a shame I'm such a sham_

_No one knows who I am._

_Once there were sweet possibilities,_

_I could see, just for me._

_Now all my dreams are just memories,_

_Faded never to be._

_Time's not a friend, hurrying by,_

_I wonder... "Who am I?"_

_Am I the face of the future?_

_Am I the face of the past?_

_Am I the one who must finish... last?_

_Look at me and tell me who I am_

_Why I am- What I am_

_Will I survive- Who will give a damn_

_If no one knows who I am._

_Nobody knows, not even you._

_No one knows who I am._

- JEKYLL & HYDE

888

Hermione stirred on the marble floor. She was achy and pain shot through her body like white-hot lightning. She could not focus her eyes and agony screamed in her mind. She groaned, then fell back to the floor wishing more than anything to sink back into the blissful oblivion.

Footsteps, quick and sure, clicked against the floor. Hermione had only a blurred sight of the edge of black robes and grey trousers... and fine black shoes the size of baby dolphins.

"Hagrid," she tried to say, but it would only come out as, "Ha-ha-ha-ha..."

The boy gasped, dropping a sack of something that squelched.

"Perfessor Dumbledore, sir!" Hagrid called, about two octaves higher than Hermione was accustomed to. "Dumbledore!" Hagrid began running away, leaving the bag in front of Hermione's eyes.

She groaned again. Whatever was in the bag wiggled slightly. Hermione slipped into a sort of pain-induced daze.

After a few minutes, Hermione heard footsteps again. Hagrid's recognizable bumbling voice was mingling with yet another familiar tenor.

Hermione felt long, thin hands gently turning her so she lay on her back. Two fingers pressed against her temple where she had hit her head. Hermione gasped.

"Hagrid, when did you find her?" asked a concerned Professor Dumbledore.

"Just a minute ago, Perfessor. She looks hurt bad."

"From what I can assess of her injuries, yes, she is." His fingers fumbled with her robes, then froze. Hermione sensed the pressure of one fingernail against her Gryffindor badge as well as her Head Girl pin.

"I've never seen her before," Dumbledore muttered slowly, "and yet... this..."

Dumbledore hesitated, then commanded, "Take her to the infirmary, Hagrid. Tell Madam Pomfrey not to ask questions, just heal her and keep her until I can speak with the Headmaster. And don't tell anyone of this."

"Yes, sir, Perfessor," Hagrid said. And with surprisingly gentle hands, he lifted Hermione into his arms and began to run. The movement sent such shocks of pain through her veins again that she blacked out.

888

"Wake up, dear. Come back to us. Wake up."

Someone was slapping Hermione's cheeks with a cold wet rag. Hermione flinched away.

"That's right, I know it hurts, but don't go back to sleep. That would be disastrous." It was Madam Pomfrey, Hermione could tell. She sat up gingerly, wincing on her still-tender wrist and arms. She opened her eyes.

And saw nothing but darkness.

Hermione gasped, reaching up to her eyes, and her hand collided with thick bandages. She sighed in relief.

"Madam Pomfrey?" she asked. "What happened?"

"Yes, that's my name, dear," Madam Pomfrey replied, "and you seemed to have taken quite a fall. You sustained some minor injuries, easy to cure, but you also received a major concussion. It affected your eyesight, so we had to rejuvenate that part of your brain. You'll find you see things a little differently than you used to see them, but you'll manage. You're a fighter."

"Why are my eyes bandaged?"

"Well, dear, rejuvenation is tricky business, and you could have gone blind from the bright light damaging your regrown retina. In a few hours, you'll be able to remove them. Until then, you need bed rest. Now, here's a sleeping potion" -a goblet was thrust into her hands- "and, in time, you'll be able to remove the bandages. Then Professor Dippet will want to see you. Go on, drink up."

Hermione brought the potion to her lips, and almost immediately fell back into the pillows, dead asleep.

888

Yet again, Hermione woke up in the hospital bed with bandages over her eyes, but this time she was feeling Galleons better and her limbs no longer ached.

She eagerly pulled at the bandages and smiled at the first ray of light. She squinted, and her eyes feel on a kindly, frail old wizard in crimson robes.

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Professor Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where you are residing now."

Hermione gaped at Dippet, then stammered, "But th-that's impossible! Professor Dumbledore..."

"Oh, you've met our Transfiguration teacher," Dippet said, delighted, gesturing to the side.

There was Dumbledore, Hermione could see that; his bright blue eyes were still behind half-moon spectacles and his hair and beard still reached past his waist, but his hair, instead of silver, was a handsome auburn. And his eyes were a slightly darker shade of blue (though this was most likely due to her new eyes). Many of his wrinkles were smooth skin, and, if possible, he seemed to emit an aura of even greater energy and power.

"P-p-professor Dumbledore?" Hermione said incredulously.

"Yes, miss," the younger Dumbledore said, mildly curious, "but how does it happen that you know me?"

"B-but y-you-_you're_ the H-h-headmaster, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione insisted, twice as frightened as she had been when she had had to sneak into Snape's private stores.

Professor Dippet raised his eyebrows. "No, that's wrong, but he _is_ the Deputy Headmaster. Maybe that was what you meant."

Hermione mouth wordlessly.

"Now maybe you could tell us your name," Dippet said not unkindly.

"Her-Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Is she alrigh', Perfessor, Headmaster, sirs?"

Hermione twisted around and gasped, "Hagrid!"

"Hagrid," reproved Dippet, "are you neglecting your duties?"

Dumbledore put a hand on Hagrid's shoulder and said to Dippet, "Now, now, Armando. Hagrid has taken a personal interest. After all, he did find her."

"Well, yes, you did, didn't you, Hagrid? She's fine now. Why, what's the matter, dear?"

For Hermione had brought her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her head was buried into her arms. Her shoulders were noticeably shaking. She looked up to see the two men and large boy staring at her.

"What year is it?" Hermione asked in a wavering voice, fingering the gold chain around her neck, Time-Turnerless.

Professor Dippet and Dumbledore shared a look at the strange question.

"It's 1943, Miss Granger," replied Dumbledore.

888888

**Chapter 2: Little Hope**

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said softly, "could I talk to you? Alone?"

Dippet was puzzled at the odd behavior, but he felt willing to pledge his faith on his trusted Deputy. His hands on the young Hagrid's shoulders, he left, Hagrid casting concerned glances at her as the door shut behind them.

"Miss... Granger, if I remember correctly?" Dumbledore said.

Hermione nodded.

"There are mysteries that need clearing up. I was reluctant to ask in front of the Headmaster." Dumbledore pulled Hermione's robes from the front of his own. "I know all my students, Miss Granger, especially those in my own House. However, your robes bear the Gryffindor crest. Also, the Head Girl this year is Minerva McGonagall, yet here is the Head Girl badge. Then, you know Hagrid and myself, while we've never seen you before in our lives."

Dumbledore looked over his glasses in his piercing way. "And there's the very nature of your accident. It seemed you were on top of a staircase and fell. Most of your injuries were understandable, but there was also sand in your hair, and glass had embedded itself into your skin here and there. I cannot imagine what could cause such unlikely debris in the case of a fall. All these have given me reason for suspicion, but there is one last one: students are not to come here for two more weeks when start-of-term begins. Even the transfers should not be coming for another week and a half."

"Oh dear, Professor, I don't know where to start, really." Hermione gestured helplessly, tears streaming down her face.

"The beginning would be fine," said Dumbledore lightly, but with no twinkle in his eye.

"Well, that's just the trouble, sir," Hermione said, "the beginning hasn't even happened yet. But what I remember is looking up Animagi in the library for my NEWT coursework, then I decided to come back to my dormitory, but I was carrying so many books, and I was distracted. I tripped on the stairs, and in doing so, my Time-Turner must have turned too much." She held out the chain for Dumbledore to see. He did not touch the jagged remains of the small hourglass, but his gaze intensified on the glints of gold. "Then I suppose it smashed under me. And now... I don't know how to get back."

Dumbledore's eyes left the chain in favor of Hermione's lost expression.

"A Time-Turner," he whispered. "There are not many here, and there are none that go forward."

"Then... I'm stuck here?"

Hermione was accustomed to Dumbledore's uncanny ability to solve all problems, and Dumbledore looked as woebegone as she.

"Miss Granger, may I ask you something else?" the next Headmaster asked gently.

Hermione nodded, so intent on holding back more tears she was that she did not correct him by reminding him that he had just asked one.

"What year do you come from?"

Hermione looked up and wiped her eyes. "It's just after Christmas holidays in 1998."

Dumbledore was staggered. "Fifty-five years!" he cried. "There isn't any chance that we can just wait it out then."

"And there are few forward Time-Turners in my time as well. I haven't read enough about them to have even a clue to go about making one myself..."

"Well," Dumbledore said decisively, putting her hands on his knees and standing, "if there's nothing we can do right now, there's no use moping. But don't worry, Miss Granger," he reassured Hermione, "we'll find a way to get you home if we have to build that legendary time machine imagined by the wonderfully inventive Muggle, H. G. Wells."

He began to leave, but paused and turned back.

"I trust that a young lady such as yourself that was awarded the privilege of Head Girl and a Time-Turner will understand what is at stake here?"

"Of course, Professor. After all, _you_ told me." Hermione smiled through her tears.

Dumbledore responded with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, yes, I am your Headmaster, aren't I? Good gracious, do I live that long?" He chuckled, and Hermione felt the warmth from the sound spread in her tense muscles, making her feel like everything would be okay again.

"Now, Miss Granger, I'm going to inform the present Headmaster of the barest threads of the predicament, but I think we ought to invent a new name and a believable situation."

Hermione said incredulously, "A new name? Is _that_ necessary?"

Dumbledore looked down at Hermione. "Oh yes, you should know that this is a very serious situation indeed. You knew me and Hagrid, so odds are that you'll know others or their relatives. And this is a most dangerous time for you. You have not been born yet, so you could possibly cause events that prevent your birth or another's birth or initiate someone's death."

"Oh," Hermione squeaked meekly.

"Now, I have a great-niece coming to Hogwarts this year. I can speak with my daughter-in-law, and she could say you are her relative on her husband's side. His surname's Shannen. I think they'll be happy to cooperate. Until we can smuggle you to their home for two weeks, you should stay here, in the infirmary."

"Charlotte's my middle name," Hermione suggested, "and my parent sometimes addressed me in that way, so I'd be more likely to respond to it, making it more authentic."

Nodding Dumbledore agreed, "Yes, Charlotte is fine. I will leave you now, Miss Granger, and inform the Headmaster and my daughter-in-law of the circumstances."

"Er, Professor?" Hermione ventured.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Could I talk to Hagrid a little? I won't tell him or anything, but he needs to know my new name."

Dumbledore looked at her out of the corner of his eye and sighed, "I'm not sure whether it is a good idea, but I'll send him in."

Dumbledore slipped out of the infirmary... only to find himself bombarded with Hagrid's questions.

"Is she all righ', sir? Did she hurt herself too bad, sir? How did it happen, sir?"

"Hagrid," Dumbledore said, raising his voice to keep the large fourteen-year-old at bay, "she's fine. She wants to talk to you. Go on in. And Armando," he directed to the Headmaster, "I believe we have a very complex problem."

888888


	2. On the Hogwarts Express Again, The Sorti...

**Title:** Dangerous Games (3, 4)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Horror  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Jekyll Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark for me, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I forgot to add in the last chapters: The Tom/Herm. pairing I'm borrowing from Jaheira's Hope, and the Time Turner breaking I'm taking from Venus deMilo and Serpentina's Snape/Hermione pairing, since I read them first. I was getting tired of waiting for Jaheira to update, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and write my own Tom/Herm. fic.  
**Author notes:** Yes, I realize the Time Turner breaking is cliche, but for the life of me, I have no other way that would seem like an accident, so we're left with it. I'd just like to take the time now to thank my beta reader, Lara.

**Chapter 3: On the Hogwarts Express Again, or for the first time, or... oh never mind.**

"Come on," Ivory Shannen cried excitedly. "You'll like Hogwarts, Charlotte. Missy, my older sister, loved it, and the Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, is my great-uncle, and well, you'll know what he's like when we get there, and... hey!" A laughing Slytherin bumped into her as he clambered into the massive scarlet train, his silver and green scarf trailing behind him.

"Don't mind him, Ivory," Hermione reassured the little first-year, "he's a Slytherin. They're all gits like that."

Ivory stared at Hermione in confusion. Then, "Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you have the Sight. So that's how you know about the Houses. Okay."

Hermione smiled inwardly at the irony. She would have to tell Harry about her new 'Inner Eye.' It would be a good disguise for any event of the future that might slip from her tongue.

Mrs. Shannen grinned. "Now, Ivory, don't forget to owl me. And Charlotte, I hope you will be... fine here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shannen," Hermione said. "And thank you for boarding me for two weeks. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Oh, no inconvenience at all, dear. Go on, both of you. Have a good time!" Mrs. Shannen left the platform, and Hermione and Ivory boarded the train.

Hermione put a hand on Ivory's shoulder. "I think I'll seek out a compartment for myself, if you don't mind, Ivory."

Ivory giggled, reminding Hermione very much of Lavender Brown. "That's all right. I'll look for a compartment, too." The little, bubbly girl began running through the train aisles.

Hermione shook her head, remembering her own first year. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to integrate into this new (or old; sheesh, time is confusing) society.

She slid open the first compartment door to see a gaggle of sixth- and seventh-year girls and one boy near the window, looking at the sweeping landscape. The boy had tousled black hair.

"Harry?" Hermione said hopefully.

The boy turned around, a Head Boy badge glinting on his robes next to a Slytherin crest.

"What did you call me?" the boy asked civilly.

Hermione's head dropped. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"You called me Harry?" the boy said, squinting his eyes curiously.

"Yes. But I was obviously mistaken."

"You had _hoped_ I would be him though, didn't you?" the boy concluded from scrutinising observation.

"Never mind. He was at my old school."

"Ahhh," the boy murmured, "a transfer student then. Hope to see you in my House. Slytherin, you know."

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied, almost snarling, "but you wouldn't care for me. I'm Muggle-born, you know."

One of the girls nearest the door sneered. "Why don't you leave then, Mudblood?"

"Pleasure," Hermione sniffed. She slammed the compartment door with a satisfying crash that landed on the Slytherin girl's finger. The yelp of pain more than compensated for the 'Mudblood.'

Hermione was going to open another compartment door when the one she had shut before opened, and the boy's head popped out.

"Even Mudbloods can be accepted into Slytherin," the boy said.

Hermione faced the boy squarely, "I don't want to be in Slytherin."

The boy grinned languidly. "Pity. So many opportunities in Slytherin. So much power you could have."

"I can reach my potential just fine in Gryffindor, thank you," Hermione said coolly.

The boy cocked his eyebrow. "A shame, really. The magicking community loses more great wizards and witches to Gryffindor than to any other House."

"What does Slytherin" -she spat the name- "have that Gryffindor doesn't?"

"No limitations or inhibitions," the boy replied promptly. He shrugged. "But if you really _insist_ on Gryffindor, Gryffindor is what you'll likely be."

Hermione turned on her heel, but she was stopped again by the boy, who by now had stepped completely into the aisle. He was tall and thin, with pensive, intelligent dark eyes and a thin mouth. He was very good-looking, but he was emitting an aura of intimidation and power, and Hermione began backing away.

"By the way, I'm Head Boy, so we'll probably meet again under tenser circumstances. I might as well introduce myself now before you are tainted by Gryffindor."

_A little late for that_," Hermione thought wryly.

The boy held out his hand with a slight smile.

"I'm Tom Riddle."

888

_...nothing but a door on the lower storey and a blind forehead of discoloured wall on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the school-boy had tried his knife on the mouldings; and for close on a generation, no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages..._

---

_...And hitherto it was his ignorance of Mr. Hyde that had swelled his indignation; now, by a sudden turn, it was his knowledge. It was already bad enough when the name was but a name of which he could learn no more. It was worse when it began to be clothed upon with detestable attributes; and out of the shifting, insubstantial mists that had so long baffled his eye, there leaped up the sudden, definite presentment of a fiend..._

-Robert Louis Stevenson, DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888888

**Chapter 4: The Sorting... "Are you sure?"**

"We have two transfers this year," Professor Dippet announced after the formal Sorting. "First, Karkaroff, Igor."

A thin, ratty boy sauntered to the Hat, sat on the stool, and placed the hat on his head.

"Slytherin!" the Hat bellowed.

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, and the boy who Hermione recognised as the later Headmaster of Durmstrang swaggered to the noisy table smugly.

Professor Dippet nodded respectfully, then looked at Hermione, and called out, "Shannen, Charlotte."

Hermione confidently approached the Hat and watched the Hall disappear under tattered cloth.

"Well, well, apparently I've seen you before in my future and your past; very interesting indeed. You seem a bit old for Hogwarts, eighteen, but that's the Time-Turner... well... Head Girl in Gryffindor, I believe... yes... you've changed some since I last saw you. You prefer solitude and scholarly time; you still have that Gryffindor courage. But you've also developed a devious spirit that might flourish in Slytherin. Are you sure you don't want to be in Slytherin? You're thinking out of old prejudices. Maybe you should consider what is behind that noble House: Riddle enlightened you well about what Slytherin is, letting yourself free, allowing your power to blossom without anything holding you back... You are curious about everything, and Slytherin would help you there, no doubt about it... You've been suppressed in Gryffindor you think... That sparks your curiosity, doesn't it, Hermione?"

She reluctantly admitted her interest was piqued. She remembered that Tom Marvolo Riddle was a prefect, then Head Boy, top in his class, "probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." With the memory of what Harry had relayed to her after the incident with the basilisk came a sharp pang of jealousy and competition.

"Yes, a thirst to prove your power, your intelligence. Well... keep in mind that you don't have to limit your friends exclusively to your House. _Gryffindor_!"

Hermione lifted the Sorting Hat from her head and went to the Gryffindor table with a withdrawn confusion. This time, she was not sure whether or not to be excited or disappointed at the Sorting Hat's decision.

Unwittingly, her eyes drifted to the Slytherin table. Riddle was staring at her as well, sombre and calculating. Then, he turned to the girl next to him, breaking eye contact.

"Glad you're here, Charlotte," said a rather pretty, raven-haired witch with a Head Girl badge next to her Gryffindor crest. "I'm Minerva McGonagall."

A few awkward seconds passed before Hermione could stop gaping at this laid-back witch that seemed to be a long mile from the stiff, strict, straight Professor McGonagall she knew. But then Hermione was distracted as Professor Dippet stood.

"Yes, yes, another year. And congratulations to our new Head Boy and Girl, Tom Riddle from Slytherin" -Hermione looked up at Dumbledore, who appeared less than pleased with the appointment- "and Minerva McGonagall from Gryffindor." The Gryffindors and Slytherins glared at each other over the Ravenclaws who divided the two House tables. "As always," Dippet continued, "the Forbidden Forest is as its name suggests, and Hogsmeade is also forbidden to anyone below third year. But now, the feast!"

Hermione grinned at the food appearing on her plate, just like before (or after).

A chicken leg flew over Hermione's head into a red-haired boy's soup, splashing him with carrots and broth.

Minerva turned around sharply. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Percival!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open again. "Peeves?"

Sure enough, a flesh-and-blood Peeves sat cackling at a boisterous side of the Ravenclaw table.

"Ah, come on, Minnie, old girl," said the messy clown of a boy, "can't you have _any _fun?"

"When the fun is at someone else's expense, Percival, no, I cannot," Minerva snapped loftily.

Suddenly, a blood-spattered ghost popped his head out of the Slytherin table and glided over to where Peeves sat.

"I'll be seeing you soon," the Bloody Baron murmured. Then he disappeared. Peeves had become momentarily speechless, his face frozen in shock.

"Peeves is a _Ravenclaw_?" Hermione gasped.

"I know," Minerva sniffed. "He'd fit in better with the Slytherins the way he disturbs the peace."

Hermione sat back, mentally thanking the gods she was never Sorted into Ravenclaw, and snagged a small meat pie. She wondered who she would see next.

"Charlotte," came a shy voice from behind her, "could I, I mean, do yeh mind if I sit here?"

"Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed. "No, of course, sit down."

The floor shook a little, and Hermione needed to hold her goblet before it tipped, but she was rewarded by Hagrid's regaling of the teachers and grounds and a few short cuts that he had found. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he was expelled, but Hermione whispered in his ear that she knew he was innocent. Hagrid's smile _sans_ beard was brighter than the sun on a summer day, and Hermione thought for a moment she was back at home.

When everyone had finished the last treacle tart, they stumbled off, warm and content, to their common rooms. The Gryffindor common room looked just like she remembered it. She half-expected Harry and Ron to tumble down the stairs, laughing, telling her it was all a clever prank. But when her old friends did not come, she finally realized where she was.

"Wha's the matter, Charlotte?" Hagrid asked as two hot tears sparkled on her cheeks.

Hermione shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm homesick." She rushed up the stairs to her dormitory.

Both Minerva and Hagrid looked at each other and shrugged.

888888

Yes, I know that Percival is Percy's name as well, but it's sort of ironic, isn't it?

A short couple of chapters, but I'll get more involved.

Thanx to all my reviewers. I hadn't expected to get anything good, but it's nice to know there are so many Jekyll & Hyde fans out there with me.


	3. Class Competition, The Library

**Title:** Dangerous Games (05-06)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Horror  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Tom Riddle Hermione Voldemort Jekyll/Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** I hope the library thing isn't too cliche. I came up with it before I read it in other fics, and I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. Happy everyone likes it. Surprised and pleased to see so many J/H fans

**Chapter 5: Class Competition**

"Wake up, Charlotte. Charlotte... Charlotte, wake up. Breakfast appears in minutes."

It seemed Minerva was shaking her, and Hermione was awake, but hoping with enough of her heart to merit accident magic that everything was just a very real, painful dream.

"Charlotte... For Ishtar's sake, she's a sound sleeper... Charlotte..."

Hermione raised an arm in acknowledgment. "Okay. I'm awake, I'm awake..."

"You may be awake, Charlotte, but now humor me," sighed Minerva, "and get up."

Hermione obeyed, and sat up so suddenly that Minerva shrieked and tumbled head over heels off the bed. Minerva stood, dusting herself off and straightening her hair, laughing wholeheartedly, and again Hermione was awed by the vast difference between Professor McGonagall and Minerva.

"What's first class?" Hermione asked, grabbing her schedule from her night table.

"Transfiguration," Minerva replied with relish. "Professor Dumbledore teaches that. It's my favorite class, and I'm doing my NEWT coursework with him." Minerva puffed herself up proudly in a way startlingly reminiscent of Hagrid. "I'm going to become an Animagus."

"Oh, _really_," Hermione said, unable to hide the secret humor from her voice. Minerva looked hurt, and Hermione tried to make amends. "No kidding? What method are you planning to utilize? the potion or the charms? The potion is extremely difficult, but the charms require too much accuracy that are almost impossible. Complete, proper, pure preparations and the degree of magic within a witch. At least the potion doesn't delve into a person's own raw power."

Minerva smiled, mollified. "Well, I'm going to ask Professor Dumbledore which might work better, but I'm better at wandwork than potions-brewing, so I think I'll do the charms. But," Minerva asked, eyebrows raised, "how do you know about the procedures?"

"I was planning to do my coursework in the area of Animagi at my old school for the NEWTs as well, but now... I hadn't planned on transferring."

_Too true_, thought Hermione mirthlessly.

"What school did you attend?" Minerva inquired. "You sound British, but Hogwarts is the main school in the Kingdom."

Hermione thought quickly. _Let's see, Merlin's Academy, no that's too south... The Fay's School... no, it doesn't exist yet... oh, this might work... yes..._ "Mab's Circle," Hermione replied. "Mum wanted me nearer to home, but Dad finally convinced her Hogwarts might be less expensive. It's the one thing Dad insisted on. Mum's a little domineering, and it's taken a little time. I think when Mum finally looked at the bills, she agreed. Of course, the electric bill soared, too, but that's another story..."

"You're Muggle-born?" Minerva asked, surprised. "You'd better be careful. We share almost all our classes with Slytherin- Headmaster Dippet's trying a new diplomatic program, but it's a lost cause. Riddle's in every one of our classes, and his gaggle of girls never shuts up. If you ask me," Minerva whispered with venom, "he acts modest, but I think he rather enjoys the attention he receives from half the girls at school. But I'm not one of them," Minerva added, in a way that made Hermione suspect if she had not been one of them in the past.

"What's he like?" Hermione asked casually.

Minerva fluttered her hand dismissively. "He's Head Boy, which makes since in name because his head's so swollen it wouldn't fit in the Great Hall if he would just drop that 'innocent' facade. But never mind, you'll see him in first class. Just sit on the other side of the room unless you want to hear girls giggling and flirting with him. Oh," she said, slinging her book sack on her shoulder, "and he's really smart. I'll admit he's smarter than I am. The problem is that he doesn't mind flaunting it. Just a warning."

"Duly noted," replied Hermione. _This ought to be interesting._

888

"Your last year in Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore announced, standing in the split between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. "You are aware that you now have the opportunity to graduate with the highest honor Hogwarts has to give. I am talking, of course, about your NEWTs. Hopefully, over the holiday you have thought about what might interest you in the way of your coursework, should you so choose to take the exams. A few examples include apprenticeship, experimentation, or delving into some of the most difficult aspects of magic... Those wishing to participate in the NEWTs, please stand and state your subject of coursework."

To no one's surprise, Riddle and Minerva stood; Head Boys and Girls were required to take the NEWTs, and more often than not, they were the only ones. However, a new figure stood as well.

Hermione.

Dumbledore spared her a glance, then turned to Minerva, nodding her go-ahead.

"I plan to become a registered Animagus," Minerva exclaimed.

Dumbledore smiled at her, then faced Riddle. Riddle said flatly, "It is my hope to create a formula that will separate the polar personalities of man, good and evil. I do not require professorial assistance; I work alone."

"Very well," Dumbledore assented with more than a touch of coldness. "That is permitted. Miss Shannen?"

Hermione swallowed self-consciously. "I- um- I was originally planning to transfigure into an Animagus as well, but I suppose now, under the circumstances, I can do that as extra work in my spare time; I've been preparing for the transfiguration since fifth year, and I have enough research. For my coursework, I would like to invent a Time Turner that takes the turner forward in time."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but a knowing smile twitched the edges of his flowing beard while the rest of the class began buzzing with incredulity. Minerva was staring at Hermione as though she was a traitor, and Riddle was giving her that look of calculation she now attributed to him, though she had known him for such as short period of time.

"Very good, Miss Shannen, and constructive," said Dumbledore softly. "Now, back to my Transfiguration class..."

888

_Lisa, all my life I've been possessed_  
_By one great all-consuming quest_   
_And that's my driving reason to survive!_  
-"Possessed" JEKYLL & HYDE

_Sometimes I see_  
_Past the horizon_  
_Sure of my way_  
_Where I am going,_  
_But where's the prize_  
_I have my eyes on?_  
_Where?_  
_There is just no knowing!_ _And when despair_  
_Tears me in two,_  
_Who can I turn to but you?_  
_You know who I am..._  
-"Possessed" JEKYLL & HYDE

888

The girls who usually were never seen away more than a three meter radius from Riddle tore themselves away from their boy and circled menacingly around Hermione outside the Transfiguration classroom. The leader, a rather plain girl with straight brown hair, planted herself directly in front of Hermione and threw herself into Hermione's face.

"What are you trying to do, you stupid, Mudblood Gryffindor? Everyone here knows Tom is the smartest at Hogwarts, and some Mudblood transfer is going to steal his reputation, see?"

Hermione's eyes were wide, innocent. "I wasn't trying to make Riddle look bad, though I don't regret it. My goal is purely personal, and you wouldn't..."

"-And you're pretending mine is an easy extra credit assignment," Minerva interrupted, genuine tears turning her eyes red. Minerva's friends were all glowering at Hermione.

Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "I'm not trying to one-up anyone. I have my own reasons to construct the Time Turner, and that idea is fairly recent, but I've wanted to become an Animagus since my third year. I'm sorry if I stole anyone's thunder. I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, right," snorted the Slytherin leader, and the whole group swaggered away to attach themselves like barnacles back onto their favorite boy. Minerva's crowd walked away in the opposite direction, one girl putting an arm around Minerva's shaking shoulders.

Hermione sighed heavily, finding herself alone in the middle of the corridor. Resigned to another familiar year of solitude, she headed in the direction of the Potions classroom. Another class with Slytherins. Joy.

888888

**Chapter 6: The Library**

After a grueling Potions class with Mistress Professor Figg, Hermione was exhausted. The weight of the class had only been lifted slightly by the fact she had been completely ignored. Better than being insulted and interrogated, anyway. She had not had to face the future Voldemort and his gang; she had kept to the back corner, and most of them had not noticed her. Unfortunately, and ironically enough, she would still have to face her own House at lunch.

She arrived there early, sitting where she had sat the previous evening. There were a few Gryffindors scattered up and down the table, but suddenly, the Great Hall doors swung open for Minerva's friends. When they saw Hermione, they halted. The good-hearted, cheerful countenance that had graced Minerva's face before was replaced by a stiff, emotionless mask.

Hermione's heart wrenched, but she complied to the unspoken command. She shouldered her pack, gathered up a plate of tuna sandwiches and sweet pickles, then hurried out of the Hall to her usual refuge: the library.

Madam Pince looked up, and Hermione gasped. The stooping, vulture-like librarian had not changed a bit.

"No food permitted," Madam Pince snapped.

"Oh, please, Madam. I'll be in that corner over there, you won't even notice me, and I'll just read."

Madam Pince stood, stepped around the desk, and bent down to peer into Hermione's eyes. Hermione tried not to blink.

Madam Pince sniffed, then said reluctantly, "All right, girl, but if even a crumb is left on the tables, you'll never be allowed in here with food again." The librarian retreated reluctantly to her desk, and Hermione could breathe normally again.

Happily among her true friends again, she carried her plate to the farthest corner of the library.

And froze.

She tried to sneak quietly backward, but she hit a shelf, causing a few books to fall. Hermione gave a strangled cry and began to run.

"Wait," commanded Riddle. "Charlotte Shannen, correct?"

Hermione halted in her tracks with her back still to Riddle. She nodded tremulously at his question.

"Madam Pince is going to kill you if those books stay on the floor, then tear you to pieces and kill you again for extra measure."

Hermione juggled a bit and returned the books to their proper places. She started to leave again.

"Come sit with me."

Hermione shook her head, but she still did not speak.

"There's no one here, no one to accuse you of fraternizing with an enemy, no one to accuse you of showing off..."

Hermione turned slowly.

"How would you know they're doing that to me?"

Riddle gave a secretive smile and shrugged.

"The Gryffindors are proud of Minerva, and they have every right to be. Most of them can't stand it that anyone can be more ambitious and intelligent than she," Riddle explained. Then he stroked the chair next to him. "Come on, I won't bite or drink your blood or anything. All the other corners are taken, and the rows around me usually end up filled with girls who pretend to read the spines of books about the Revolution of the Dust Bunnies. This is the only quiet corner there is, and I think that's what you want, isn't it?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then thought reluctantly, _Harry and Ron are going to kill me when they hear about this_, realizing that everything Riddle said was true. She did not want to leave the library, but there was nowhere else to sit. She was familiar enough with the unchanging library to know the boys usually sat near the Quidditch books, girls preferred the self-help books, and Ravenclaws in general claimed the rest of the library. Only the back, among the more obscure titles and subjects, had Hermione ever found peace.

Apparently, Riddle had the same objective as she.

Slowly, apprehensively, she set her plate on the table and sat down- only to jump right back up as she heard something hiss sharply at her.

"Oh, so sorry," said Riddle, grinning, not sounding sorry at all. "Meet Nagini."

Had Hermione not known he was Parselmouth, she would not have noticed the surreptitious hissing that Riddle directed toward his loyal serpent. Nagini, after a very condescending slither at Hermione, moved out of the chair and around Riddle's arm.

Hermione sat down again, a little harder than she should have, perhaps. Riddle did not seem to notice her icy glare, or at least he chose not to acknowledge it. He just turned back to the book over which he was taking notes.

Hermione opened her book bag and retrieved _Animagi: the Facts and Fictions about Transformation_. Then she positioned the book so she would not have to look at Riddle and began eating her lunch and reading.

The next two hours passed uneventfully, and as soon as the bell rang for the next class, Hermione gathered her books and walked determinedly away, refusing to give Riddle the satisfaction of her running from him.

"We're going to the same class, you know!" Riddle called after her.

"Then go with your fan club!" Hermione yelled back, glaring at the girls who had squatted in the near library aisles.

Madam Pince was going to say something about the disruption, but Hermione left so fast, she have had a Firebolt under her robes.

888

_...with something of a slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness-- you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection._

- Robert Louis Stevenson, DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

Weeks passed. Minerva still would not talk to Hermione, and the Slytherin girls still itched to curse her to the other end of the world. Of course, the fact she raised her hand at every question asked by a teacher at the same time Riddle would did not boost her status with either of them. Old habits, including the more annoying ones, were hard to break.

However, Riddle, unlike Minerva, did not seem to mind the competition. He never spoke against her, and when he could not answer a question himself and Hermione could, he generally just laughed good-naturedly.

The only friend that did not leave Hermione's side was Hagrid. Like he would be in the future, Hagrid had the rare, simple gift of loving people unconditionally. Hagrid was Hermione's anchor to sanity in such a time and with such solitude, and when she was not in the library (in a corner she had never discovered before as far away from Riddle as she could be), she went to the hut near the Forbidden Forest where he was training for gamekeeper with Ogg, the present, or past, gamekeeper. Hagrid would always put aside whatever he was doing, and they would talk about simple things such as with what creatures Hagrid worked, and what he had done that day, sometimes about his father who had died two years ago. Hagrid ventured a few questions about Hermione's family and the friends she had at Mab's Circle, but Hermione quickly explained to him she did not want to remember home.

She spent most of her time in the more obscure sections of the library.

After two months, Hermione concluded that she would have to slightly transfigure a magic hourglass (which was really expensive) small enough for her chain, which she continued to wear almost religiously; then she had to create a spell that would allow it to go forward in time (which was extraordinarily difficult without a clue to the charm that caused a Turner to go back in time).

No matter how many books she read, she was given trite, unspecific descriptions of the Time Turner and its properties. She kept telling herself, "The next sentence... the next paragraph... the next page... the next chapter... the next book," but it was never in any of these. She was at the library so early in the morning, she had to wait for Madam Pomfrey to undo the spells on the door before she could go in, and Madam Pince had to kick her out at night when she closed the doors.

As Halloween neared, Hermione found herself waking up in the middle of the night and not going back to sleep until an hour or two later. She began pacing the Gryffindor common room when these bouts of insomnia made themselves known with all the subtlety of an exploding cauldron.

Soon, she could not stand the silence and left the common room, careful of the telltale signs that betrayed the caretaker's, Apollyon Pringle, approach. She had to be especially careful in this day and age because the methods of punishment were a bit extreme (if more effective), precisely those that Filch in her time enjoyed and mourned so much.

The week before Halloween, Hermione transfigured one of her robes into a modest two-piece bathing suit. She would cover herself with a Warming Charm, then drag a towel to the lake. She found pleasure in swimming the circumference of the shore. Sometimes, the giant squid, only a baby at this time, loved swimming next to her or under her. The night was a silver beauty that she had rarely seen at home, in her time. She had to keep reminding herself that she was home at Hogwarts, no matter what time. This truth had been confirmed in sixth year: she had had her first fiery fight with her parents during Christmas holiday, and she had returned to Hogwarts in a huff, only to realize she felt more comfortable among the gossiping portraits and stone flags of the corridors than she was in her own home among the objects of her childhood.

When she would finish swimming 'round the lake, she would sit halfway on the shore and let the water shimmer against her skin. The moon was remarkably bright, quickly approaching full, and she would look about her, unconsciously looking for Hagrid's vegetable garden and the Whomping Willow.

Occasionally, she would cry when she realized these things that were so familiar to her did not even exist yet. Then she would dry herself off and head back to the school.


	4. Halloween, Quid pro quo

**Title:** Dangerous Games (07-08)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Horror  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Tom Riddle Hermione Voldemort Jekyll/Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter 7: Halloween- Trick or Treat?**

The Halloween feast was perfect with tarts, ice cream, ham, candied apples and carrots, bowls of assorted candies, and jugs of iced pumpkin juice every two meters down the table. Wizards and witches were laughing and talking loudly, relishing the rare festivity of the eerie floating Jack-o'-lanterns and the occasional ghost appearing from the ham. A rather younger, more handsome Flitwick had charmed the columns to spout orange and black sparks when it got too quiet. And to add to the atmosphere, the enchanted ceiling above showed a bright full moon. Almost everyone was in high spirits; everyone, of course, but Hermione.

She had been shunted to the end of the Gryffindor table and those who sat next to her pointedly pretended she didn't exist. She was left alone with _Time and Its Questionable Ethics_.

Suddenly, she felt a finger poking her on the shoulder. Hermione turned. The leader of the girls that usually surrounded Riddle, the girl who she now knew as Cenia, was focusing her eyes about three inches above her head with a contorted face.

"Join us," Cenia said emotionlessly.

"Beg pardon?"

"You don't seem to be having a good time on this august occasion," Cenia muttered sardonically, "so I want you to join us at our table." Cenia gestured to the Slytherin table.

"You, or someone else?" Hermione retorted, twisting around to give Riddle her most evil glare. Riddle did not even look up from his meal, but Hermione could tell that he sensed her gaze. He was laughing into his plate.

Hermione whipped back to her seat and eyed Cenia suspiciously, ready to dismiss her, but stopped as she noticed the whole Hall was looking at her. In particular, her own table was practically malicious.

"Fine!" Hermione snapped at them. "If my fate has already been decided, why not? I'm condemned anyway!"

She stood up in a huff. Her chair screeched against the floor. She gathered her book and her sack and headed toward the Slytherin table.

"Traitor," spat Minerva.

"That's what you've said from the beginning, McGonagall!" Hermione yelled, not caring about the attention she was attracting. "But now I've been called that so often, I might as well live up to your expectations!"

And she stalked away, slamming her book onto the Slytherin table next to Riddle where he had reserved a seat. Hermione did not even ask him how he knew she would come.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," murmured Riddle as he passed a piece of ham to Hermione's plate.

"You can shut up, too," she snapped. "You haven't helped the situation at all. And stop it, I can serve myself; I have two hands."

"Fine," Riddle said, unfazed. He dropped the serving bowl of candied carrots onto the plate, causing the ham already served to her to flip off to the floor.

"I didn't mean for you to drop the bowl onto the side of my plate," said Hermione exasperatedly.

"Oh, my mistake."

As the Hall slowly lapsed back into its usual chatter after a few fountains of sparks, Hermione settled into Slytherin's rhthym.

"You're Charlotte, aren't you?" asked the boy to her right, a thin, withering young man. "You're really smart, aren't you? Smarter than Tom?"

Hermione stared at the boy.

Tom gave a throaty chuckle. "That's Nott. It will please you to know that you're rather popular in Slytherin common room conversation. Anyone who can earn more points than I from answers in the classroom merits gossip. Of course, your year coursework for the NEWTs has inspired some debate. And your dismissal of Animagism hasn't helped."

"I didn't dismiss, I-"

A hand creeped onto her upper thigh and squeezed.

Hermione squealed and kicked. The boy adjacent to her winced.

"That's Avery," Riddle introduced. "He's loyal to a friend, but never be a female and alone in the same room with him."

"If you touch me again," Hermione threatened, "I'll stab you with my fork and lick the blood from it. I'm in a vile mood." Indeed, she hadn't felt this awful since her third-year experience with the Time Turner.

Avery just grinned and slid his hand onto her leg again.

Hermione, to the shock of everyone, and more to herself, proved to be true to her word. The Slytherins, including Riddle, gaped at her as she caught Avery's other hand with her fork, almost impaling it. Then, with a satisfying, painful wiggle, she retrieved her utensil, dripping with a few drops of blood. And again true to her word, she let her tongue run along the front and back of the prongs.

"That's disgusting," commented Cenia, pulling a face.

Hermione grimaced, astounded at her own audacity. "You're right. I pity the vampire."

Riddle, who had been staring at Hermione's bloodstained mouth, suddenly broke into laughter.

Avery was mumbling a weak healing spell onto his wound with two bright red spots on his cheeks from being laughed at by his friend.

"One thing I've learned about Slytherins is that violence is the only thing you'll pay attention to," Hermione stated matter-of-factly in way of explanation. "If it works on Malfoy, it'll work on-" Realizing what she had said, she abruptly shut her mouth.

"You were saying?" Riddle goaded, his voice suddenly as smooth as honey. Hermione's eyes flickered to his, and she remembered suddenly that she was sitting next to Lord Voldemort.

"I have to leave," Hermione said quickly.

"Oh, no, stay," Riddle purred, his hand grasping her arm.

Hermione unsheathed her wand and pointed it at Riddle.

"Let me go."

Riddle slowly released her, his eyes burning.

"I don't know why I'm here," said Hermione, "but next time, let me be alone."

Riddle hissed, "As you wish. But I think you belong here, with us."

"I'm in Gryffindor, Riddle," Hermione articulated. "I'm wearing red; you're wearing green. That should tell you enough."

Riddle laughed again, but this time there was no mirth. "Why don't you set aside all these pretenses? You know this" -he spread his arms as if to embrace the entire Slytherin table- "is everything you've always wanted. To be accepted as you are instead of what others want you to be."

Hermione hesitated, then fixed her thoughts on the Gryffindors she remembered before, when she, Ron, and Harry had been the best of friends.

"No. I'm _Gryffindor_, whether you or I like it or not. And I'm going."

She began to stride out of the Hall when she felt her shoulder taken into the grasp of a strong hand. She wheeled around to stare straight into the black eyes of Riddle.

"So you aren't content in your own House." It was not a question.

She wrenched herself away and ran out.

888

That night, Hermione could not even get to sleep at all. She had quickly retreated behind the curtains of her four-poster. No one had even noticed her.

She mused over the events of the day, from the words she had exchanged with Minerva and the Gryffindors, then with Riddle and the Slytherins. As her thoughts slowed, she realized she did not really belong anywhere in Hogwarts. When she had had someone who was a good friend, who cared for her, about her, and for whom she could care, she had been so much more content with herself and where she had been Sorted.

She remembered the countless times she had covered for Harry and Ron, beginning with the close encounter with the mountain troll. Then she remembered when Harry and Ron had been personally affronted whenever Malfoy had taunted her about her parentage; when both the boys had protested when she had had that short, uneventful, foolish fling with Viktor Krum; then when she had gone through the year of the O.W.L.s, they had dragged her away from her books almost constantly despite her insistant protests.

Hemrione laughed softly. She had not really needed to study for those levels. She had already known everything on the exams and had passed with flying colors.

Suddenly, she sighed. She might as well do her swim now. She grabbed her bathing suit and quickly removed her nightdress to change.

In a few minutes, she had supplied herself with her Warming Charm and towels and was already halfway down the hill on which the castle was perched.

With the Warm Charm, the water was refreshing, cool, and reassuring. In the full moonlight, almost everything was visible in a silver muted color. Her strokes were swift and smooth; she could feel the bubbles under her that betrayed the presence of the squid.

"It's after curfew, you know. I wouldn't have thought you Gryffindors would break the rule so blatantly."

Hermione spluttered, breathing in a mouthful of lakewater in her surprise. The squid helped her regain her balance.

"Riddle!" she exclaimed.

**Chapter 8: Quid pro quo**

"Who did you think I was?" Riddle asked, bemusedly raking his eyes over the singular situation in which Hemrione had found herself. "Your face, it was positively delighted. Who did you think you saw?"

"None of your business," snapped Hermione, dipping neck-deep into the water. "What are you doing here?"

Riddle stiffened in mock pompousness. "Fulfilling my duty as Head Boy. When someone is out of bed after hours, I have an obligation to investigate."

"Oh, get off your high horse and answer my question." Hermione was in a bad position, half-naked, Gryffindor, pariah, and already under Riddle's scrutinization and (she hated to admit it) influence.

Riddle shrugged off his casual, joking demeanor for a cruel, somber countenance, unnervingly perceptive and constantly searching. "Fine," he said coldly, "but you didn't answer _my_ question."

Hermione locked eyes with Riddle and began trembling, rippling the water slightly. She did not know how Harry did it. Harry!

"I thought you were Harry," she said, surprised at her own self-awareness and at the comparison between the two.

Riddle narrowed his eyes.

"You thought I was Harry on the train as well. Why?"

"You look alike," Hermione answered truthfully. "Sort of. I guess I just hoped beyond hope that you were he. But then I had to come back to cruel reality." She glared at him.

Riddle's face broke into a more comfortable expression. "They say you have the Sight, Charlotte," he said, almost to himself. "I'm curious about what you said about a Malfoy."

Hermione looked away and began to swim along the shore, ignoring him.

Riddle flanked her mercilessly, his honey-sweet words boring into her brain as easily as if he were right next to her, whispering in her ear.

"I'm aware that you say you're a transfer from Mab's Circle, but you'd also said you knew a Malfoy who was in Slytherin. While all Malfoys have indeed been Slytherins, the last Malfoy graduated from Hogwarts seven years ago, and his child, Lucius, has only just been born. So it strikes me as suspicious that you should know a Malfoy. Tell me, Charlotte, dear, how would you have had an actual encounter with one of the Malfoy family in Hogwarts?"

Hermione tried to swim faster, but Riddle kept pace.

"Who is this Harry?" Riddle asked softly. "I hope it's not a pet name for that oaf, Hagrid."

"You leave Hagrid out of this, Riddle," Hermione snarled. "You've done enough to him by framing him for setting loose the basilisk of Slytherin and shattering every single dream he had. And me, you sent the basilisk after people like me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't curse you out of existence."

In fury, she dived into the opaque shroud of the water and stayed under as long as she could, then broke the surface of the water, the moon sparkling against her slick, wet skin. When she had brushed the water out of her eyes, she looked up to see Riddle's mouth slightly open, staring intently at her. He licked his lips self-consciously.

"You are truly an enigma, Charlotte Shannen. A pendulum, swinging from facade to truth, Gryffindor to Slytherin, studious to violent, friends to solitude, serenity to anger, and" -he grinned- "from nothing extraordinary to a beautiful nymph in the moonlight."

Hermione gaped, shocked speechless.

"Who is Harry?" he asked, taking advantage of her state.

"A friend from my old school. A great wizard." Hermione tried to add a little venom into the 'great,' but the venom was weak against this experienced serpent.

"Glad to hear he's not Hagrid," Riddle said, shuddering. "I can't see you kissing him without imagining how big your baby would be."

Hermione began spluttering, "Wha-? You conceited, audacious snake! For one, Hagrid is just a great friend, better than anyone else here, that's for sure, and he didn't deserve any of the judgement you or everyone else gave him. Second, my personal and sex life is none of your business, as I said. Third, Harry doesn't like me that way, and the feeling is mutual-"

Riddle interrupted, "I don't pity him if he doesn't recognize the treasure he had right in front of him."

"And fourth, I don't appreciate your flirtation. In case you haven't noticed, I don't care to have you around me. I hate you, for what you are and what you're going to be." Hermione nearly bit her tongue after that. She was going to have to be very careful what she said to him when she was angry. It was too easy to slip when she began yelling at him all the things she had always wanted to say to him.

''You didn't mind this evening."

"I don't know what demon possessed me," Hermione snarled snippily, "but I don't want you to _ever_ pull a stunt like that again."

Riddle smirked incredulously. "_I_ pulled the stunt? _I_ only invited you. _You_ decided to explode over Minerva; _you_ came to sit with us; _you_ stabbed Avery and licked his blood from your fork; _you_ answered all the difficult question I couldn't answer; _you're_ the one who is using the Sight as an excuse. _I_ did nothing, only observed."

Hermione lunged at Riddle in her urgency; he was too close to deducing her predicament. He unsheathed his wand and shouted a spell. She felt the fabric of her bathing suit slowly receding.

"Stop it!" she screamed, frantic.

"Relax, and I will, or else you'll find your virginal self completely naked in front of me."

Hermione let go of his throat, seething with rage, but not really able to do anything about it. Riddle had everything to his advantage.

"Better," he purred, looking over his workmanship. "You know, your robes don't do you enough credit."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, which was considerably more revealed than before.

"Now, Charlotte, my dear, I have a theory. Indulge me, and listen closely." He stepped closer, and she ran back into the water, concealing herself completely. "Oh, please, after what I just saw, there's little left to imagination. Not that the image hadn't crossed my mind before this. Now, are you going to humor me?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good girl. Then I'll begin:

"Your supposed cousin, Ivory, spilled to me that you came to her home two weeks before from distant family, but I heard quite an intriguing story from Hagrid. If you slip enough mead in his goblet, that oaf will tell you anything. He informed me that, contrary to the information from your little 'cousin,' you suddenly appeared out of nowhere near the third floor corridor stairs with bits of glass and sand in your hair. Interesting, the very objects that make up an hourglass. And then, the excuse of Sight and your NEWTs year coursework were dead-obvious giveaways. A _forward_ Time Turner? Could be practical, especially for someone who has been trapped in the past. You've been very messy." He raised his eyebrows emphatically and waited for Hermione's reply.

"Are you jumping to conclusions?" she asked quietly, clinging to hope like a sieve to sand.

"Of course, Charlotte," Riddle said, shrugging. "I've developed an odd habit of guessing. The only thing preventing myself from relinquishing it is that I'm usually right. And am I correct in thinking your real name isn't Charlotte?"

"It's my middle name," she whispered.

"'I hate you for what you are and what you're going to be,' you said. What am I going to be, girl? Specify."

"I can't tell," said Hermione, swimming backward toward the middle of the lake.

"You can't run from me, girl. If you're not going to answer any of my other accusations, at least tell me you real name! It would be better than calling you 'girl' all the time!" He had to shout now as Hermione reached the center of the water. "I won't tell anyone else! I just want to know!"

Hermione abruptly stopped swimming and tread water while watching him shout. She sighed, thinking quickly, then, deciding there was no reason to continue to hide it from him, she yelled back her name, "Hermione!"

Riddle smiled. Then, without warning, he pointed his wand at his feet, then walked out onto the water.

"The Bubble-Foot charm," Hermione hissed to herself. "Should have know he would be that resourceful."

"Then, Hermione, are you going to confirm any of my other suspicions?" Riddle inquired hopefully.

"You wish," Hermione replied. She turned away, gasped. "Oh, look!"

Riddle complied, and his eyes widened.

A unicorn, sparkling white and chaste, was staring at them from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"I haven't seen a unicorn since third year," Hermione whispered in awe.

"I don't reckon that one's going to come closer, even if you _are_ a young virgin maiden. I've got two strikes against me already."

"Eww," Hermione squealed. "That's a picture I did not want to see. Who would be that stupid?"

"I resent that," said Riddle goodnaturedly. "Lydia, Cenia, and Jezebel didn't seem to mind."

_...we were keeping the women off him as best we could, for they were as wild as harpies._

-Robert Louis Stevenson DR. JEYLL AND MR. HYDE

Hermione gagged. "I told you that was a picture I didn't want to see."

"And that's my problem, why?"

Hermione looked up at him. "Oh, never mind."

They were silent for a minute, watching the unicorn. The pure creature leaned down to the water drink.

"You were right about almost everything," Hermione confessed abruptly, grabbing hold of Tom's ankle so she could stop treading water. "Let's go back."

Riddle looked down tenderly and reached out, offering Hermione a hand. She took it gratefully, and he pulled her up until she was out of the water. He applied the Bubble-Foot charm to her feet, then gave her his own outer robes. Hermione was shocked at this new nobility, and she remained wary, but accepted the gifts willingly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She did not have long to wait. The minute her foot touched dry ground, Riddle had whipped her around.

"What do you know of my future?" he growled.

Hermione took his face sharping in her hands, her nails digging into his flesh. He winced.

"You tell me, Riddle. Why do you want to know?"

His skin flushed a bright red and in retaliation, he gripped her shoulders in his long thin fingers and answered with unaccustomed truthfulness.

"Ever since I first came to Hogwarts and saw what I can do, this magic, this power, I've wanted more. And it's been given to me, more and more and more every year. It never stops. Above all, I want the world to know my name as the most powerful wizard since my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. What's wrong with power? Everyone wants a little power, even those weak people who have no more ambition than a doorknob. I just want to reach my climax, where my power will stop coming to me. I want to know where that is. I have not arrived there yet, the power just keeps amassing. Light, practical magic isn't enough to satisfy my hunger, my need for power. You don't understand, none of you Gryffindors do. You look down on anyone with even a speck of ambition as inferior because we work, oh yes, we work for what we want. Have you ever looked around your common room and just seen a lump of good-for-nothings, who, when they can, prefer pleasure to power? What you people like you live for, I might ask." He seemed keen to continue, but he composed himself.

"And now, Riddle," Hermione interjected, "what did you plan to accomplish from a wizard's duplication of Dr. Jekyll's experiment? What personality do you desire to bring forward?"

Riddle grinned, rubbing his thumbs along her collarbone. "So you know the reference from where I acquired my idea. I think you know my intentions, Hermione. I really think you know."

Hermione sighed, releasing his face. The skin had broken where she had held him, and small drops of blood welled there.

"Then, I think you'll understand why I can't tell you from what time I am, and anything about yourself. If you know, things could happen as they aren't supposed to happen. People might die when they're supposed to live. People might not meet when they're supposed to meet. It's just too dangerous. You know this."

Riddle caressed her cheek. "You're beautiful when you're concerned. And angry."

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Viktor tried that already."

He let go of her shoulders, and Hermione finally realized how roughly he had touched her as she rolled her shoulders to take away the ache.

"Viktor. You must tell me more."

"It was a one-time insanity, and he appreciated me, but we did not get any farther than a kiss on my hand," Hermione explained. "Though I don't know why I'm telling you this."

Riddle chuckled. "My natural charm. Let me help you get back to your time. I'll research the special, hidden Slytherin library if I can."

"Help? Since when did a Slytherin ever help a Gryffindor? What do you want from me?"

Riddle stroked his chin, watched Hermione shiver as the Warming Charm began to wear off. He knew what he really wanted, but he felt that might have to wait. "Well, if I help you with your graduation project, I'd like help with mine. _Quid pro quo_, after all."

Hermione peered at him from under her lashes. "What help do you need?"

"Well," he said casually, "I've determined the ingredients for the potion and the procedure. So far, the effects of the potion will only be ephemeral, but that's all I want for now. I just need an extra pair of hands for the potion. If you'll be that other pair of hands, I'll aid your return to your own time."

"Could you... a year Turner?" Hermione asked.

Riddle nodded.

Hemrione looked at loss of what to say, but then she flung her arms around his neck and burst into tears.

"You'll help me?" she sobbed.

He patted her back awkwardly, unfamiliar with the position, though he found he rather liked it. "If you help me," he murmured softly into her hair. Suddenly, Hermione realized exactly who she was embracig and backed away quickly, fisting her tears from her eyes. She stared at him, battling between her knowledge of exactly what Riddle would become and what he seemed to be here.

Riddle began to step backward, and Hermione turned to see the cause. The unicorn had approached them and had aimed her horn at Riddle. It shook its head in mild anger, and Riddle continued his retreat. When the unicorn was sure that Riddle was a safe distance away, she squarely faced Hermione, gazing at the human girl with violet eyes.

The message was clear.

_Be careful_.

"I'll try," Hermione whispered. The unicorn bowed, then galloped away, a flash of almost incorporeal silver, supple strength.

Hermione smiled, then proceded to follow Riddle, Summoning her towel from the edge of the lake. She slid Riddle's outer robes and returned them back, slightly damper than before.

Riddle didn't mind.

"Why don't you just use a Drying Spell and get it over with quickly?" Riddle asked, stepping alongside her.

"One of its side effects," Hermione explained, "succeeds in making my hair bushier than it already it, so I don't bother."

Riddle laughed. "Why not perform an anti-frizz charm while you're at it then?"

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Anti-frizz charm?"

"When you sleep with three girls, you learn some of their cosmetic secrets." He twisted his face slightly. "Why do they ramble on about carnal pleasure when there isn't any really?"

"Can we change the subject?" pleaded Hermione.

"Ah, yes, let's protect those virgin ears," Riddle mocked, smirking.

"There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, Tom Riddle," she snapped. "What's the anti-frizz charm?"

"It's _Inrizado_, but my question was sincere. What is the talk implying while I've felt nothing but an annoying itch? All that touching and stroking, it seems like unnecessary friction."

Hermione grimaced and muttered, "I can't believe I'm going to explain sexual pleasure to the most evil wizard since Grindelwald." She sighed. "Let me try and describe this." She chewed on a nail for a moment. "If two people find that they enjoy each others' touch, their bodies will respond in a certain way, appealing to their more primeval nature. If they take pleasure in that response, their individual sexual centers will react in such a way that they... fit together, I suppose, you might say."

"And you're such a genius, are you?" Riddle grinned at Hermione's blushing.

"Dad had the 'birds and the bees' talk with me when I was ten."

Hermione pretended to be interested in a small rock along the hill to Hogwarts. She shivered, holding the towel closer to keep out the chill. It still had not occurred to her to reapply the Warming Charm, then following Riddle's advice. Above all, she was astonished by the basic camaraderie with which they conversed. Riddle noticed her neglect and he performed the Drying, Warming, then, to his own surprise, the anti-frizz Charm. She did not even realize his gesture, but opened the front doors to the Entrance Hall.

When she did so, she squealed slightly at the sight before her. Apollyon Pringle was standing there with more malice than Filch ever had.

"Ah, Pringle, have you had a successful night?" Riddle inquired easily.

"Riddle," Pringle growed, "I didn't see you."

Riddle added a little steel under his words as he said, "This girl is with me. Head Boy immunity."

Pringle gave Hermione a once-over, suspicous, but secretly pleased with her obvious half-nakedness. He waved them on silently, his eyes lingering on Hermione's curls, the result of Riddle's generous spell.

After they were out of earshot, Riddle rolled his eyes. "Lecherous old fool."

"Well, if you ask me, he may be lecherous, but at least he's not impotent," Hermione said nastily. This time she did bite her tongue, tasting blood, as he deliberately pressed her against the wall, eyes boring into her with fury, his face inches from hers.

"Don't... you... ever say that again, Hermione," Riddle seethed. "You have _no_ idea who you're dealing with. I'm _not_ impotent, I...just don't... feel anything." He let her go and averted his eyes. The vulnerability was an astonishing change that made Hermione look twice.

Hermione stored this into her memory; it might be the only time she would ever see Voldemort uncomfortable- embarrassed even. But she also made the mental note not to insult his masculinity again.

_Really, what has gotten into you, Hermione_, she asked herself, shocked at her own behavior lately.

"Well," said Riddle shiftily, "I guess I should let you go back to Gryffindor tower and sleep. I hope they don't give you too much trouble."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but replied, "Don't worry about me. I'm going to apologize profusely to them for that outburst."

"Fine then," said Riddle, and he stalked off.

Hermione stood there for a minute, watching him leave.

And she thought, _What was that?_

But, on a side note, she began using the anti-frizz charm ever after with a gracious heart.

888

_Hitherto it had touched him on the intellectual side alone; but now his imagination also was engaged, or rather, enslaved._

-Robert Louis Stevenson DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888888


	5. Helping Hands, Murder Murder

**Title:** Dangerous Games (09-10)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Horror  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Voldemort Jekyll-Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark for me, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter 9: Helping Hands**

----

_...I found what seemed to me a simple crystalline salt of a white colour. The phial, to which I next turned my attention, might have been about half full of blood-red liquor, which was highly pungent to the sense of smell and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and some volatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no guess._

_The mixture, which was at first a reddish hue, began, in proportion as the crystals melted to brighten in colour, to effervesce audibly, and to throw off small fumes of vapour. Suddenly and at the same moment, the ebullition ceased and the compound changed to a dark purple, which faded again more slowly to a watery green._

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

----

"Be careful," Riddle ordered. "Wolfsbane has a tendency to explode with hemlock and lupin roots."

"I know," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Who corrects you in Potions class?"

She threw in the thin white flowers from a safe distance and backed away at the quick geyser of noxious fumes. "Why does three-fourths of the HJ7 potion consist of poison? Are you planning to kill yourself?"

Riddle explained patiently, "When I add the mint leaves and yew bark, the poisonous effect of the other herbs will be neutralized enough that I won't die."

"So you'd rather be in severe, agonizing pain. Oh, yes, makes perfect sense now." Hermione inched toward the cauldron hesitatingly. Then, deeming the boiling liquid writhing within it safe, stuck her wand into the viscous liquid. "Temperature, exactly zero degrees Celsius."

"The pain will draw the darker personality forward where it will thrive in the thrill. The yew bark will temporarily kill the dual personality and allow the darker side full reign. Unfortunately, the potion is only predicted to last approximately two hours. Better than Polyjuice, but nonetheless..."

"Why the darker side?" Hermione asked. "Few will find it practical, and the better self will be more embraced by the magical community."

Riddle laughed. "You speak as if I was your Gryffindor friend, Harry. I'm not doing this for the greater good; I'm making the potion strictly for personal gain."

"Always nice to meet someone so fundamentally honest."

Riddle was still chuckling as he glanced at his watch. "That's all I need you for tonight. This needs to set for two days."

"Did you find any information for me?" Hermione asked, holding her ground and reaching out her hand emphatically.

Riddle stroked his chin with a lazy smile. "I could make you beg for it. Or at least work for it."

Hermione replied forcibly, "I have."

Riddle glared at her, and Hermione matched him eye for eye, unrelenting. He finally shrugged one shoulder and softened his gaze.

"Yes, I found some information. There's a book over on the desk." He gestured in the general direction, finally turning away.

"Thank you." She snagged the book and flounced out.

888

_Lanyon, you remember your vows: ...And now, you who have so long been bound to the most narrow and material views, you who have denied the virtue of transcendental medicine, you who have derided your superiors -behold!"_

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

"And so we'll continue our lesson on sentient to sentient transfiguration next time. You are dismissed."

But then Professor Dumbledore rested his gaze on the Gryffindor side of the room. " Miss McGonagall, Miss Shannen, please stay behind."

Puzzled, Hermione halted her motions to pack up. She set down _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7_ and approached Dumbledore's desk. She stared at the auburn-haired Professor, and when he lit his eyes on hers, a wave of horrified revelation swept through her, forceful as a black flood.

Despite her conscientious efforts to create a forward Time Turner, she had gradually lapsed into the rhythm of her new world. Her real home seemed like a distant, impartial memory. Riddle had substituted Harry and Ron and, in contradiction, Draco. Minerva had replaced Pansy. Dumbledore had easily replaced both Professor McGonagall and his future self. The only person who seemed to have kept his original character was Hagrid. With all of her adaptations to her new environment, she had accidentally forgotten that this was not her true reality. And when she finally looked down in shocked shame, she realized Dumbledore had deliberately reminded her of her purpose in a single glance. He freed her from him as he turned to Minerva.

"I wanted to speak to both of you about your desire to become Animagi. Have either of you begun your preparations?"

Minerva nodded enthusiastically. "I followed your advice, and I'm undergoing the charm procedure. I'm halfway through with the transfiguration," she boasted, swelling proudly.

_Insufferable show-off_, Hermione thought bemusedly.

Dumbledore blessed Minerva with a smile. "Well done. And you, Charlotte, have you progressed?"

"Somewhat," Hermione replied, avoiding Minerva's gaze. "I've gathered the ingredients, but I've yet to find time to mix them in the delicacy necessary for the cauldron. My work with the Time Turner has occupied most of my time. I'm close to finding the complete set of spells for the hourglass, but I still have to find the rest of the incantations and then cultivate the charm that will cause it to go forward. The information on such things is limited."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, then said slowly, "I believe you genuinely wish to become an Animagus, correct me if I'm wrong. So if I gave you the curriculum for the rest of the year in Transfiguration, will you study what you need to study?" A twinkle had crept into his bright blue eyes.

Hermione stammered incredulously, "W-what do you m-mean, sir?"

"I mean I'll allow you to skip Transfiguration classes to make the Animagus potion as long as you complete the Transfiguration requirements by the time you leave Hogwarts" -Hermione noted the wording- "and if you pass the exams. I have faith in you."

Minerva was shooting barbed daggers at Hermione, so she thought she should just agree and escape the tabby cat while she could.

"Yes, sir. I would appreciate that, sir."

Dumbledore stroked his beard in pleasure. "Very good. You can leave now, Minerva, I'd like to speak a bit longer with Miss Shannen."

Minerva was about to flounce out when Dumbledore called diplomatically to her retreating back, "Don't forget to come for tea this afternoon. We need to discuss your scholarship into university."

Considerably happier, Minerva departed.

Shaking his head with a knowing grin, he reapplied his attention to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I wondered about your outburst at the Gryffindor table during Hallowe'en and your rumored friendship with Tom Riddle."

"Friendship?" Hermione scoffed. "Hardly, Professor. The association is purely business, I assure you. I help him, he helps me; we don't kill each other, we benefit each other."

Dumbledore interjected with a hand raised, "Be that as it may, Hermione, I think the relationship, however strained it is, must end. Tom is not someone..." Dumbledore chose his words carefully, "someone to tangle with. The Headmaster may not see it, but Tom... there's something... off key about him. I feel responsible for your safety here. With Tom, that safety... may be compromised."

"I recognize your concern, Professor," Hermione assured his, "but he's helping me create the Time Turner, and he's been invaluable in the research. I can't just cut him off. Not yet."

"I'm worried, Hermione. If you depend on him too much, he'll want more, he'll take advantage of your precarious position. I know he knows you, Hermione, and you've done well with him so far." Hermione tried to interrupt, but Dumbledore spoke over her. "But he is clever, cleverer than anyone in this school except Hagrid and I understand. That calculating mind may find an alternate use for your many talents."

Hermione stiffened and, with obdurate insistence Harry and Ron had encountered during her house-elf liberation cause, said, "I'm sorry, Professor, but even if I have to ally myself with Slytherin's Heir, I'm getting home. Almost anything is worth that."

Dumbledore cautioned, "Don't mention that to Tom or you'll place yourself into a quandary not even I will be able to rescue you from."

"Maybe, Professor." She twisted on her heel.

"Hermione?"

She paused.

"How did you guess he was Slytherin's Heir?"

Hermione turned slowly, searching for the right words.

"He... Riddle... lived... lives in my time, too, Professor," she said guardedly.

And then she did leave.

888

_--I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child's family, which was only natural. But the doctor's case was what struck me. He was the usual cut and dry apothecary, of no particular age and colour, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with desire to kill him._

_--...O my poor Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend._

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

Hermione was shaking as she entered the Potions classroom. How quickly Riddle had charmed her into almost forgetting who he really was, who he would become, what he would do. Then she realized she was aiding him in his pursuit of power.

"Maybe I was meant to," Hermione whispered to herself. "Time's an odd thing. Maybe I did it and that's why he became what he did. Or," she said, speaking her fears, "maybe I'm just speeding up the process. Oh, by the stars," she groaned in something like despair, "there are too many details, too many possibilities, too many ways to change the future. The strands of time are just too delicate, everything's too macrocosmic for me to comprehend." She buried her head in her hands.

"Are you all right?" A familiar voice asked. Hermione looked up and saw a tentative Minerva looking down on her.

"No, P- I mean, Minerva. I'm not all right. There's too much to think about. My head's about to explode." She once again hid her face in the palms of her hands.

"I feel like that sometimes."

"Oh, I assure you you've never felt like this."

"I can imagine."

Hermione glanced up. It seemed the stiff Head Girl was trying to make amends. Hermione offered Minerva a tremulous smile. Minerva returned the friendly offering, then giggled self-consciously.

"Do you want to help me in this subject?" Minerva asked gently. "I'm good at wand-waving, but Potions leaves me flat."

Hermione's plastic smile gave way to genuine pleasure.

"Sure," said Hermione, relieved at the renewed friendship.

As they began the potion written on the board, Hermione stole a glance at the Slytherin side.

Riddle was staring back, and he did not look happy. Without any pretensions to the clandestine, he levitated a strip of parchment to Hermione's seat and dropped it on her desk.

Curious, she unfolded the note, and read the words, turning cold.

_The potion is ready. I'm testing it tonight. Don't come._

_-Tom_

----

_This is the moment/ This is the day_

_When I send all my doubts and demons on their way._

_Every endeavor/ I have made ever_

_Is coming into play/ Is here and now- today!_

_This is the moment/ This is the time_

_When the momentum/ And the moment are in rhyme!_

_Give me this moment/ This precious chance._

_I'll gather up my past/ And make some sense at last!_

_This is the moment/ When all I've done_

_All of the dreaming/ Scheming and screaming become one._

_This is the day/ See it sparkle and shine!_

_When all I've leaved for/ Becomes mine!_

_For all these years/ I've faced the world alone_

_And now the time has come/ to prove to them I've made it on my own!_

_This is the moment/ My final test_

_Destiny beckoned/ I never reckoned second best!_

_I won't look down/ I must not fall!_

_This is the moment/ The sweetest moment of them all!_

_This is the moment/ Damn all the odds!_

_This day or never/ I'll sit forever with the gods!_

_When I look back/ I will always recall_

_Moment for moment/ This was the moment_

_The greatest moment of them all!_

----

888888

**Chapter 10: Murder, Murder**

----

_And then all of a sudden he broke out in a great flame of anger, stamping with his foot, brandishing the cane, and carrying on (as the maid described it) like a madman. The old gentleman took a step back, with the air of one very much surprised and a trifle hurt; and at that Mr. Hyde broke out of all bounds and clubbed him to the earth. And next moment, with ape-like fury, he was trampling his victim under foot and hailing down a storm of blows, under which the bones were audibly shattered, and the body jumped upon the roadway._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

----

Hermione found herself imbued with a feeling of cold dread. The enormity of exactly what she had been brewing with Riddle finally made itself known from that little-used state of mind called 'repressed realization.' While the creation had been nothing but interesting, even slightly entertaining to her intellectual mind, she had lost slight of the potion's purpose. She saw now the Gryffindor recklessness with which she had entered into the entire predicament.

She coulod not fully concentrate during the Potions class, worrying to the point of paranoia about what Riddle would do under the influence of the HJ7 potion. Her mind flickered over the numerous atrocities Voldemort had initiated throughout his reign of terror: the perfection of the Cruciatus Curse, Dark Marks hovering over houses where blood had saturated every inch of carpet, countless reports of tortures...

_Now's the time he creates the Dark Mark_, Hermione thought suddenly, recalling a previous conversation, when he had revealed a side project involving, simply for sport, a spell for tattooing, a replication of the tattoo he had acquired the previous year at a Muggle shop.

She began shivering again.

Little did she know she was being observed by the very subject of her thoughts, and he was stroking his upper forearm where the tattoo graced his pale skin. He was grinning coldly. Tonight would not be interrupted.

888

_No, there is no choice/ I must put aside_

_The fears I feel inside/ There's no place to hide._

_So it comes to this/ One last final chance_

_That only I can take/ Now everything I've fought for is at stake!_

_Like a warning light/ Glimmering in red_

_Like crimson bloodshed/ Shimmering in red_

_Beautiful and strange/ See the colors change before my eyes!_

_See how they dance and they sparkle/ Like diamonds at night_

_Leading me out of the darkness/ And into the light!_

_11:58 PM. Consumed 10 centiliters of Formula HJ7. Salty, bitter taste. Stings the tongue. Warm in the gullet. Heat spreading strongly through my veins. A slightly feeling of euphoria. Lightheadedness. No noticeable behavioral differences._

_I must be wise/ I must try to analyze_

_Each change in me/ Everything I see._

_How will it be?/ Will I see the world through different eyes?_

_Now the die is cast/ Nothing left to do!_

_Time alone can prove/ My theories true!_

_Show the world..._

_My God! - What's this? Something is happening! I can't explain!_

_Something inside me/ A breath-taking pain_

_Devours and consumes me/ And drives me insane!_

_Suddenly/ Uncontrolled_

_Something is/ Taking hold._

_Suddenly/ Agony_

_Filling me/ Killing me!_

_Suddenly/ Out of breath_

_What is this?/ Is this death?_

_Suddenly/ Look at me- Can it be?!_

_Who is this creature that I see?_

_Free!_

_-­_JEKYLL & HYDE "Transformation"

_-Instantly the spirit of hell awoke in me and raged. With a transport of glee, I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight from every blow; and it was not till weariness had begun to succeed, that I was suddenly, in the top fit of my delirium, struck through the heart by a cold thrill of terror._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

888

She had been sleeping easier since Hallowe'en, but tonight, staring at the November's half moon, she knew she would not be able to sleep at all. She started to read one of the newer books on Time-Turners Riddle had given her, but she could not focus on the words, and her attention drifted back to he who had given her the book in the first place. She wondered what was going to be left in his aftermath. And she wondered whether he would regret anything he did during his transformation. The latter she worried about with more than anxiety. Too doubtful. After all, he would not stop, but would continue to transform until he had found the permanent potion that would change him from Tom Marvolo Riddle into Voldemort.

Hermione could not believe that she had helped the most evil wizard of her time create his power.

She slipped into an uneasy slumber, still leaning her head against the windowpane, a tear slipping down the glass.

888

_Murder, murder!/ It's a curse, man!_

_Murder, murder!/ It's perverse, man!_

_Murder, murder!/ Nothing's worse than_

_Bloody murder in the night!_

_Murder, murder!/ On our doorstep!_

_Murder, murder!/ So watch your step!_

_Murder, murder!/ Take one more step,_

_You'll be murdered/ In the night!_

_Murder, murder!/ Once there's one done,_

_Murder, murder!/ Can't be undone!_

_Murder, murder!/ Lives in London!_

_Bloody murder in the night!_

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpts from "Murder, Murder"

888

"Morning, Charlotte," called Minerva, still slightly guarded. "Charlotte?"

Hermione stirred against the window.

"Charlotte," Minerva goaded, shaking Hermione gently. "Wake up. Charlotte?"

"Has anyone screamed today?" Hermione mumbled, half-asleep.

Minerva pulled a face, nonplussed. "Huh?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "Hmmm? What?"

"Nothing," Minerva said, looking oddly at Hermione.

As her consciousness took hold once again, Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, no," she whispered under her breath. "What have I done?" She hastily grabbed her dressing robe and rushed down to the Great Hall.

"But Hermione, your still in your _nightgown_!" Minerva called after her, in vain.

No one was shrieking in terror, and Riddle was not at the Slytherin table, so Hermione relaxed a notch and sat down at the Gryffindor table. Maybe nothing had happened last night.

"Good morning, _Charlotte_. Nice gown."

Hermione jumped and turned around to see Riddle smirking down at her. His hand rested on her shoulder. Now very conscious of her nightclothes, she pulled her robe closer around her.

"Good morning, Riddle," Hermione choked out. There was an awkward silence.

"Well," said Riddle, "aren't you going to ask?"

Hermione swallowed, perspiring a little. "How... was... last night?"

Riddle gave her a wide, ecstatic smile that left Hermione terrified.

"It was a success, Hermione. A success. And I even have an inkling on how to make the effects permanent."

"What did you do?" Hermione hissed.

"I?" he said, grinning still. "I didn't do anything."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Hemrione muttered, standing. She pushed her face in front of his. "What did you do?" she articulated.

His smile only grew. "I told you. I didn't do anything."

Without warning, a blood-curling scream rang throughout the Hall.

Both Riddle's and Hermione's heads snapped toward the Entrance Hall. She gave Riddle was last glance before she ran in the direction of the scream.

A small crowd had gathered on the marble floor before the front doors, attracted like flies to carrion. There were assorted gasps, and a few people stumbled from the scene, gagging and throwing up in a corner.

Hermione shoved through the group, then halted, stunned.

The boy's extremities were strewn around the trunk in a rectangular shape, and he had been gutted. The intestines and other organs dotted the blood around him, looking like an expressionist, grotesque painting. The heart was separate from the rest of the body. It lay about a meter above the head. Someone had eaten half of it. From what was left from the head, it seemed the murderer had given the unfortunate a frontal lobotomy, a procedure that left the boy aware of exactly what was going on around him. The tongue lolled out of a mouth filled with concealed blood and eyes stared accusingly at Hermione.

Painted on the Great Hall doors was a crude outline of the Dark Mark.

"By the stars," Minerva gasped, coming up from behind. She put a hand to her mouth, holding back bile. "That's Percival."

"Peeves?" Hermione rasped. "He killed Peeves?"

"What's going on?" asked Professor Dippet, hurrying down the stairs in a frenzy. Riddle had entered the Hall and was watching the events unfold lazily. Professor Dippet glanced over him and rested his eyes on the slaughter. He clutched his heart, and his face turned gray. "Oh, my word. What... who... b- no- it can't be. No."

Professor Dumbledore flew into the Hall like a fury. Hermione looked at her later Headmaster and fell to the ground. Harry had once told her that Dumbledore looked different when angry, but now he was furious, and it exuded from him in an aura of pure, unadulterated power. He took in everything with his cold blue eyes that were devoid of any twinkle.

"Who did this?" Dumbledore looked around. His gaze rested on Riddle, who did not budge from his casual position. Riddle gave no indication that Dumbledore's suspicions were not baseless, but Hermione could almost feel the tension, the sheer power, build between the two.

Dumbledore was the first to break the eye contact, having more important things to worry about at the present. He said slowly and clearly, "Everyone, leave this place now. Minerva, gather all the teachers you can find." He did not deputy Riddle. "I said, 'everyone, leave.'"

This time, the crowd obeyed, and escaped from the carnage gratefully.

Hermione stumbled into an alternate corridor, hardly observing where she was going. She fell against the stone wall, gasping for breath.

"I did it," she whispered. "I caused this."

While she was chanting this revelation, she was oblivious to the figure approaching.

He gathered her in his arms, holding her face against his shoulder. She clung to him, not caring who was holding her, just wanting comfort.

"Death comes to us all, Hermione, and it is only with death that we can eventually conquer it."

Hermione looked up and found her in Riddle's arms. She ripped herself away.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head fervently. "No."

Riddle nodded, and he pressed her against the wall bringing his mouth down close to hers. "Yes."

His cold lips pressed deeply into her own responding mouth. She softened beneath him, her muscles relaxing as he pulled her against him. The kiss was almost chaste, with nothing more than the simple contact, but the action seemed more intimate, like a hand slipping up her thigh; calculating and seductive, devious and sinful. Hermione moaned slightly, and Riddle pulled away.

His eyes were wide with awe. He touched Hermione's face gently. Hermione peered at him shyly from underneath her lashes, all horror forgotten.

"That... that was..." Riddle stammered. Then he leaned down and kissed her again, fingers clenched tight against her hips, bringing her against him. She reached up, running a hand through his hair, tousling it further, and her mouth parted.

Suddenly, "You bastard!" He was thrown across the hallway into a suit of armor. The assortment of metal crashed to the ground, Riddle tangled in the middle of it. "How dare you? Dumbledore was right! You do know how to charm those who can benefit you. Well, I could tell _him_. He knows I've been helping you with your project, and I daresay he could guess whatever you were up to. He wouldn't blame _me_."

"Yes," Riddle hissed, "but what about everyone else? You're already a suspicious character, a Gryffindor who spends time in Slytherin company. Dumbledore could not prove my guilt last year, and he won't this year. He can't. You know that, don't you? _He_ may believe your innocence, but see where his opinion landed Hagrid and where I am positioned. There is nothing Dumbledore" -he spat the name- "can do to me. I don't care if you leave me now. You've done your task admirably."

He ceased his tirade abruptly, his eyes oddly pleading. Hermione was breathing hard, still angry that he had taken advantage of her, and she had let him, angry that she had not heeded Dumbledore's advice. But that furious passion cooled, and she began to calm down.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," she proclaimed, "Go to hell."

"Please, Hermione," Tom said softly. He disentangled himself from the suit of armor and stood gingerly. Hermione was shocked to realize his tone was sincere. "Please, Hermione. I can do without you, but I don't want to." He took a step closer. He was encouraged when Hermione did not move back. "It's a pity you weren't Sorted Slytherin. The things I could teach you. That power that you don't even realize you have could be set free. It's what I've been saying all along."

"You killed him," Hermione said uncertainly.

Tom cocked his head slightly. "It may be hard for you to comprehend, but _I_, Tom Riddle, did not kill him. You seemed to have deduced I'm Slytherin's Heir; I was responsible for Myrtle's death. But..." his brow furrowed, "_I_ could not ever directly kill anyone. I can't... find it within myself to kill, though I don't mind others carrying out the murders." He looked at his hands in wonder. "That's why I wanted the transformation. I wanted to kill, I wanted to have the power to do so. Who I kill doesn't matter, does it? Only that I can. But yes, I guess, technically, _I_ did it. And that's a remarkable achievement for me. I did it. Or part of me did it. My Hyde was responsible; I had guesses of what would occur, but how I was... that into which I changed... wasn't really _me_. I am cruel; I'll admit it. I am manipulative; I'll admit it. I like to have my way; I'll admit it. But I am not pure evil, which is impossible with medicinal aid or insanity. It may be difficult for you to believe, but there is come- a little- compassion," he stepped closer, slipping his hands onto her shoulders, "some tenderness, some conscience."

"I don't believe you," Hermione said. The lie was blatant.

He chuckled in his throat, the vibrations running from her shoulders and down her arms, the sensation surprisingly sensual.

"Just not running from me denies that statement, and you know it. I could kill you now. That was one primal act that my Hyde desired to do to you. Hyde is only a part of me, meaning his feelings are mine, I give them to him. But I don't kill you. That should be enough for you."

For one moment, Hermione leaned in toward him, and Tom tilted his chin down to receive her again.

_Voldemort._

_Flight of Death. Avada Kedavra._

_Dark Mark._

_Thousands dead at his hands._

_'When he came back as Voldemort, no one suspected that charming, intelligent Tom was behind the horrible murders,' even if he _was_ odd. Even if he_ was _a Slytherin._

Hermione fiercely pulled back and took out her wand. "I'm going to tell you something, Riddle, and listen well. I don't know what to think of you, but nonetheless, it doesn't matter anyway. I am going to leave, and I don't want you to follow me. I might join you in the library occasionally; we may work together in class; but I do _not_ want any sort of emotional connection between us at all. We are not friends, we feel nothing, we are business partners. I help you, you help me. _Quid pro quo_. Something for something. You like having people in your debt, like any good Slytherin, but I'm not one of those people. We've worked for each other. I can leave you and we'd both have lost something, purely business related. I can do without you. Like you said."

Tom smiled, and Hermione's skin crawled, not entirely with revulsion.

"You so eloquently stated before that I can charm those who benefit my needs. I never _needed_ you. I could have easily completed that potion on my own; I think you knew that unconsciously all the time. You intrigued me, Hermione. I wanted to explore that power I sensed immediately in your face. But you're wrong, you owe me, Hermione. Very possibly, you owe me your life."

Hermione, trembling violently by now, set her chin, and articulated carefully, "Stay away, Tom. Leave me alone."

"Okay," he whispered, "I'll give you my progress through correspondence. But you will never be alone." He deliberately ran a finger along the line of her jaw, watching the contact with pleasure. Hermione resisted the impulse to take his finger into her mouth, then kiss the ends of his other fingers.

"Like it or not, you will never... be... alone."

888

_-I am the man/ Mark my words well_

_With whom you'll share/ Heaven or hell._

_'eaven, I fancy, 'as no place for me_

_And I can find hell on my own!_

_Like it or not/ You will never be alone._

_After tonight, you will never be alone._

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "Lucy Meets Hyde"

-_Edward Hyde would pass away like the stain of breath upon a mirror; and there in his stead, quietly at home, trimming the midnight lamp in his study, a man who could afford to laugh at suspicion, would be Henry Jekyll._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

888888


	6. Letters, The Time Turner

**Title:** Dangerous Games (11-12)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Horror  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Voldemort Jekyll-Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark for me, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** I am going to take a small break so I can work on other fics, but I WILL continue.

Chapter 11: Letters or You've Got Mail

---

_-Animals trapped behind bars at the zoo/ Need to run rampant and free!_

_Predators live by the prey they pursue/ This time the predator's me!_

_Lust -like a raging desire/ Fills my whole soul with its curse!_

_Burning with primitive fire/ Berserk and perverse!_

_Tonight I'll plunder heaven blind/ Steal from all the gods!_

_Tonight I'll take from all mankind/ Conquer all the odds!_

_And I feel I'll live on forever/ With Satan himself by my did!_

_And I'll show the world/ That tonight and forever_

_The name to remember's/ the name Edward Hyde!_

_What a feeling to be so alive!/ I have never seen me so alive!_

_Such a feeling of evil inside!/ That's the feeling of being Edward Hyde!_

_With this feeling of being alive/ There's a new world I see come alive!_

_It's a truth that cannot be denied/ There's no feeling like being Edward Hyde!_

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "Alive"

-_"This Master Hyde, if he were studied," thought he, "must have secrets of his own; black secrets, by the look of him; secrets compared to which poor Jekyll's worst would be like sunshine..."_

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

-_The most racking pangs succeeded: a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly to subside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness. There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably new and, from its very novelty, incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil; and the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine. I stretched out my hands, exulting in the freshness of the sensations; and in the act, I was suddenly aware that I had lost in stature._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

---

_Dear Hermione, 11.3.1943_

_As I promised, I will give you records of the progress I make. I will edit details you would rather not hear (or read), and you will have to decide what is true or fiction._

_The changes are painful, as we discussed, but in the end, it's a good pain, like how one's muscles feel after exercising for the first time. Sometimes the veins in my eyes rupture, causing the whites to turn red. With my black eyes, I look extraordinarily like Nagini. I find it amusing. I have had to sneak into Pomfrey's stores to steal some of the less used medicine for hemorrhages._

_Dumbledore, the meddling fool, came and inquired about my progress. He suspects, but I had created a potion that mimicked the feelings of euphoria, but failed to make someone completely good. He had a Truth spell on his wand, I could tell, but I told him the complete truth, so he had to leave empty-handed of evidence. He is getting annoying._

_I don't think I have killed anything intelligent, but the Forbidden Forest has opened its arms to me. And speaking of murder, Peeves can be found haunting the west fifth floor corridor. He's bound to come down any day now. He did not see who killed him, thank the stars; the one thing I regretted on my first experiment was my lack of caution. My Hyde has since then grown more cautious._

_I'll see you in our corner tonight in the library. Madam Pince often gives me authority to stay after hours as long as I lock up behind me. I have more information for my potion that I persuaded from a unicorn. He wasn't happy to give it to me, but he didn't have much choice._

_Love always,_

_Tom_

_Dear Hermione 11.7.1943_

_If you want, you can come to the Slytherin table this evening. Cenia misses you. Maybe I'm exaggerating... but only a little. I think you earned her respect by stabbing Avery with your fork. She's had a run-in with him before and can empathize._

_My Hyde stumbled into your 'friend' Hagrid with that brute of a gamekeeper Ogg. Apparently a gamekeeping lesson. Ha! Little does Ogg know that Hagrid has more know-how of that forest than his tutor is aware. I 'almost' slipped the location of the Acromantula, but decided against it after I had reduced that great oaf to tears in insinuations, and not just about his creatures. Ogg is not a kind man._

_I have obtained ingredients in preparations for a permanent potion. I must admit, my dear, you gave me the idea for the primary ingredient._

_The changes are coming easier each time, and each transformation is new, painful, but quicker._

_In answer to you question two days ago, yes, I feel completely different as my other self. Robert Louis Stevenson only saw the tip of the depravity possible in a human. My other self is significantly restrained, but it's only because of the chamomile in the HJ7 potion. In the permanent transformation potion, this will not be the case. The thought of this makes me slightly queasy, but as my darker side experiences more, like a newborn child, he becomes smarter, more devious, more likely to fool other more-civilized people into thinking I am ordinary._

_I have noticed that I have mixed my 'I' and 'he' together, but technically, I am he, and I am not. It is difficult to explain, but I think you understand. You tend to, don't you?_

_Even the centaurs fear me now._

_I found something that will be of interest to you. Hint: use a translation spell on all the versions of the incantations for the hourglass. You'll find it out on your own without my help if you just think about it._

_Tom_

888

-_Am I the man that I appear to be?/ Or am I someone I don't know?_

_Is there some monster drawing nearer to me?/ Becoming clear to see?_

_Will what I fear to be be so?_

_What is this strange obsession/ That's tearing me apart?_

_Some strange deranged expression/ Of what's in my heart?_

_This is a deadly game I have to win!/ This is a fight I dare not lose!_

_I have an adversary steeped in sin/ Who wages war within_

_In ways I can't begin to use..._

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "Streak of Madness"

-_Evil besides (which I must still believe to be the lethal side of man) had left on that body an imprint of deformity and decay... This, too, was myself... I have observed that when I wore the semblance of Edward Hyde, none could come near to me without a visible misgiving of the flesh. This, as I take it, was because all human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil; and Edward Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

888

_Dear Hermione, _(burned after reading)_ 11.10.1943_

_Does a pentagram of candles conjure or is a circle more effective? I cannot seem to find the answer anywhere._

_The Baron has reined in Peeves and is teaching him how to change from a ghost, which he finds boring, to a poltergeist. The lessons are becoming increasingly destructive. He's worse than a ghoul. I do not know what the Baron was thinking when he started Peeves' death clock at the beginning of the year. You'd think he'd choose a Slytherin over a Ravenclaw, no matter how crafty and mischievous that Ravenclaw may be._

_The Forbidden Forest seems to never end. Werewolves are said to run the entire wood in a night, but I can't seem to get very far myself. It's almost like I'm being pushed from the outskirts. Maybe the forest wishes to claim me. The thought is intriguing._

_Last night, in the midst of making love to Cenia, I wondered absentmindedly what it would be like under your fingers. For the first time, I reached a climax, and Cenia felt happy she had caused it. Ha! I set Obliviate on her in a fluster. I've never been flustered before. I've decided it's not desirable; it slows reason._

_Instead of numbing the pain, the more I take the potion, the more painful the change is. I wonder why._

_Love, _

_Tom_

_Dear Hermione, 11.13.1943_

_You've been avoiding me. I miss you. And I am beginning to miss myself. I have decided to take the potion in the afternoons. Or maybe I haven't. My Hyde has been shaking the bars of his cage. He has had his taste of freedom and now desires nothing else. He is not content with the brevity of his chances, and he is beginning to despise my power over him. However, in each transformation, he augments he own powers. I fear the same mistake made by Henry Jekyll will occur with me. He may appear in any of my classes. I hope he realizes that, should he do so, he will reveal to the school precisely what we've done, and he would be thrown into Azkaban and not experience any more freedom. I think he does know this, and this is the only reason he doesn't overpower me._

_I do not think you understand how different this Hyde is from me. His power, or free use of it, is exhilarating, but the things he does to help me continue my experiments are unnecessary casualties. He does not care about the messes he makes. They are pleasurable to him, this chaos, and he covers his tracks well. That does not hinder my knowledge that he has committed such atrocities._

_I am concocting the new permanent HJ7 potion now. I hope to take it after I've graduated, safely on my own. You should be long gone before that time. At least, I hope you are, though we need to speak of some things. That idea you had after translating will not be successful. The charm of which you were thinking is similar to the backward Turner's spell, but it will melt metal and glass, which is not recommended with an hourglass._

_Love,_

_Tom_

888

_-This familiar that I called out of my own soul, and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous; his every act and thought centered on self; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another; relentless like a man of stone._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

888

_Dear Hermione, 11.20.1943_

_The permanent potion is nearly finished. The near completion has imbued me with euphoria. At last, I have created something of importance, of practicality. Then again, that is why one does a NEWT coursework internal assessment._

_On a side note, I have discovered the way to brand my Mark on anyone, so that experiment was rather more of a hobby, don't you think? Like your Animagus experiment. How has that Potion progressed? You've been skipping Transfiguration to make it, no? What do you think you'll become?_

_Before, I said Cenia missed you. Now Avery misses you. His wounds have healed, and he is intrigued by a violent Gryffindor. He's been pondering your naked body. Watch yourself in empty rooms._

_Yes, that new incantation seems more accurate. Perhaps change the accents a little. Ask Flitwick about that; he's the Charms Master. It seems that, aside from the accents, the Time Turner is almost ready. You have the enchanted chain (though it may need to be renewed after breaking from the original Turner) and the incantation. All you need now is to immerse an already charmed hourglass in your spells. That hourglass won't come cheap. And then it takes four months for the spells to sink in. You might have a problem._

_Love,_

_Tom_

_Dear Hermione, 11.24.1943_

_You're avoiding me again. Hagrid informed me that he hasn't seen you for a week. You've leaving your oaf all alone, Hermione! Where have you been hiding? Not even Minerva knows, though she was a bit snarly when I asked; she wondered for what insidious reason I was asking._

_Peeves has come out of his shell a full-fledged poltergeist. The mischief is beautiful._

_Love, _

_Tom_

_Dear Hermione, 12.03.1943_

_Potion finished. Am storing in a safe place. Where are you? I find you!_

_Love,_

_Tom_

_Dear Hermione, 12.15.1943_

_I'm going to hurt someone if you keep hiding like this._

_Love,_

_Tom_

888

_-"...and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten this destiny, and that is to respect my silence."_

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

888888

Chapter 12: The Time Turner

---

-_The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confined himself to the cabinet over the laboratory, where he would sometimes even sleep; he was out of spirits, he had grown very silent, he did not read; it seemed as if he had something on his mind._

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

---

Hermione stretched in her four-poster. She had been up the night before until three in the morning. That private library she had found was her sanity, and she could finally hide from Riddle.

He had slowly started to make certain uncomfortable affectionate gestures to her after admitting that while he was making love to Cenia, he had been aroused thinking of her. The caresses were not blatant: a hand on her shoulder, a finger on her lips to quiet her when they sneaked through the school after hours, an arm around her waist in jest. They seemed merely friendly, but his dark eyes suggested something different. Despite his help, she wanted him far away. She still had trouble reminding herself that Tom Riddle was Voldemort, and the guilt she felt after having a good time intellectually with him ate at her constantly. She ached to tell Dumbledore or Hagrid, but she knew she could not; she had to face these problems on her own. She was avoiding the future Headmaster as much as she could.

---

-_"If he be Mr. Hyde," he had thought, "I shall be Mr. Seek."_

-Stevenson's _Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_

---

The private library seemed to belong to Dumbledore. His handwriting was found here and there in books. However, if Dumbledore knew she found refuge, he permitted her to stay.

"Morning, Charlotte!" cried Minerva excitedly. "Happy Christmas!" Minerva jumped onto Hermione's bed and bounced until Hermione sat up, resigned.

"Why should I get up?" Hermione asked, trying to sound menacing, but grinning at the future-Professor McGonagall's indecorous behavior. "It's not like I got anything."

Minerva winked knowingly. "Can you be so sure?" Minerva opened Hermione's curtains to reveal a small pile of gifts on her trunk. Hermione's mouth fell open.

And for one moment, she understood how Harry felt on his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Because she was half a century away from her family and friends (and because Christmas had already passed for her back in her time), she had not been expecting anything and had braced herself to the fact. The gifts had caught her off-guard, and the gestures by her various newfound friends of 1943 touched to the very center of her heart. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, and a pleasant warmth spread from the general area of her chest to her fingertips.

"Goodness," said Minerva, startled. "It's nothing to cry about. I can take them back..."

"No!" Hermione cried, laughing through her tears. "It's okay, I'm fine. I'm just... you don't understand what this means to me."

Minerva smiled gently. Without a word, she touched Hermione's hand companionably, then left her to her gifts.

At first, Hermione just sat there, still and smiling, basking in the clutter, hustle and bustle of the pure happiness surrounding her. Then she blinked and looked at the brightly-colored packages.

She received a copy of _Animagi: What Animal Are You? _from Minerva, a box of homemade fudge from her 'family,' and a note from Professor Dumbledore that said simply:

_I overviewed your Animagus potion with the aid of Professor Figg. Everything seems to be in order. Well done._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

A box with a crude assortment of holes on the side wiggled a bit, and Hermione approached it warily; the card on the side was in Hagrid's distinct scrawl. Hermione was prepared for some odd beast.

But when she slipped off the top from the box, she practically squealed with delight. A pure black fluffy kitten squinted up at her and uttered a piteous mew. Hermione melted and reached in to retrieve the poor kitten who had doubtlessly been in the box all morning. The card said:

_I found this one in the corner of me hut, meowing for its mamma. As far as I can tell, this one doesn't have a mamma no more, but I thought you'd enjoy her. Happy Christmas, Charlotte! Come see me._

_Love,_

_Hagrid_

_P.S. Her name's Midnight. She won't respond to nothing else._

Hermione laughed out loud with pleasure. She pressed the kitten against her cheek. The cat responded with an easy purr and an attempt at bathing the scant fur on its paw. Hermione quickly predicted the less-than-ecstatic reaction of Crookshanks, but decided her cat back home would get used to her.

Then she spotted a small, hastily wrapped something that had been hidden by the other gifts. There was no card or identification that she could see, so she ripped the paper and out fell an hourglass and a note.

_Dear Hermione,_

_This is already enchanted, so you only need cast the forwarding spells after you put it on your chain. I have completed the permanent HJ7 potion. It needs to set for four months, the same amount of time needed for the incantation to permeate the hourglass. What a coincidence. Perform the spell now!_

_Love,_

_Tom_

Hermione looked at the tiny hourglass. She suddenly hated her predicament and that she needed Riddle's help to get through it all. She hated that she was now completely in his debt. She hated _him_ because she was so grateful, so _attracted_.

But she could not _not_ take this opportunity. She had everything she needed, and she really wanted to get home...

So...

Like she was in a trance, she removed the gold chain from her neck, then threaded the hourglass onto the chain. From under her pillow, Hermione retrieved her Time Turner journal and turned to the page that had the complete list of spells written in order in her neat, precise handwriting. With her wand, she searched down the list for the specific spells she needed. When she had found them, she closed her curtains and began.

I will not tell you all that went on during this time, but had anyone been observing her while she performed the incantations would have been mesmerized by the authoritative tone of her voice and easy flow of movement. Even Midnight did not move a single muscle or mew as the hourglass began spurting out thin, green rays of light and steaming. Hermione performed these spells as an artist and a master.

After the procedure was complete, Hermione dropped her wand and flopped back onto her pillows. Midnight mewed inquisitively, but in transferring the raw power that had been invested into the Time Turner, Hermione had been drained to the point of collapse. She was fast asleep.

She finally woke up at noon still exhausted but elated. Midnight had curled up against Hermione's neck, and her tail was tickling Hermione's nose.

Hermione sat bolt upright. Then, in a stiff manner, she dressed and went to the Great Hall. Midnight did not follow her new mistress and concentrated on a spider in the corner. Lunch.

Hermione's eyes scanned the House tables until she reached Slytherin; Riddle was conversing with the few friends that had stayed at Hogwarts. More students during this time, it seemed to Hermione, remained at school than went home for the winter holiday.

Riddle looked up deliberately.

"Good morning, _Charlotte_," he said genially. "Did you have a pleasant Christmas morning?"

Hermione just stood there for a minute, then she leaned over from behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in an awkward embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear.

Riddle was looking quite pleased at her gesture, and he touched her hair in acknowledgment. "You're welcome, Charlotte. As you know, I want you to succeed just as much as you do. It will be better for us all." He indicated the luncheon before them with a flick of his hand. "Would you like to join us?"

Hermione smiled and forgot that they were Slytherin and she was Gryffindor. She never liked those distinctions anyway. However, she sat on Riddle's left side; Avery was on his right.

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-_Henry! At last. What could possibly be more important that your own engagement party?_

_John, I am close to/ A breakthrough discovery!_

_Something spectacular!/ Something sublime!_

_Finally, a light in the darkness/ Has come to me!_

_Now it is only a matter of time!_

-JEKYLL & HYDE, excerpt from "The Engagement Party"

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	7. What Happened, Confrontation

**Title:** Dangerous Games (13-14)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Drama  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Voldemort Jekyll/Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** Due to some comments here at FA and email reviews, I decided to continue again. Besides, I finished a chapter from one of my other fics, and I felt I needed a break by doing this one.

**Chapter 13: What Happened for the Next Five Months**

The next four months passed with few events that are relevant to this story. I will relate these scenes to you now.

Scene: Simultaneous Animagi Transformations

Dumbledore surveyed the past and future Head Girls with affection only ever found in situations of master-protege success.

"Minerva," he said solemnly, but with a definite twinkle in his eye, "I cannot deny that you have been a prodigy here at Hogwarts and easily the favorite of the professors. Personal problems between you two have caused our opinion to diminish somewhat. However, now that you've made up, we all are so proud of you. But let's discuss your academics, both of you."

Hermione and Minerva were grinning at each other in embarrassment.

"You two attemted the two different methods of Animagism, potions and charms. Minerva, you will finally complete the last of the charms today. Charlotte, you have completed the potion, and you are prepared to take it. Minerva, if you transfigure, you will be given fifty points for Gryffindor, a name in the history of Animagism, and doubtlessly scholarships for any university on the face of the globe should you wish to pursue further education. Charlotte, if your potion is not flwed, and it does not appear to be, you, too, will earn Gryffindor fifty points, a name in the book of the few registered Animagi, and the satisfaction of accomplishing such an arduous task. Never in my time have two such fine minds graduated from Hogwarts as Animagi. If you succeed, two more Animagi will be added to the meager list of five people. I want you to know, Minerva, Charlotte, no Head Professor could be more proud of you than I."

Hermione's and Minerva's grins were no longer embarrassed.

"Now, that's enough praise from me. Do you want to finish together, simultaneously?"

Hermione nodded, followed by Minerva, who raised her wand. The former uncorked her vial of Animagus potion. They shared a look, and as Minerva performed her last wand-waving and incantations, Hermione put the vial to her lips and downed the potion in one gulp.

The change was not painful, not like the pain the Polyjuice Potion had imprinted on every nerve-ending in her body. The sensation was gentle, even pleasant. It was the feeling of ice cream and a swim on a sweltering day; it was sun melting butter; it was the bed after a long day; it was an A after weeks of toil; it was a kiss by a boy after a murder.

The transfiguration was complete in less than a minute. Minerva twitched her tail excitedly as she turned in circles in a comically puppyish manner trying to look at herself. Then she stopped as she peered into the grinning maw of a jaguar, a big cat of sleek, flexible grace, indifference, and terrible beauty. Minerva stared at Hermione through the spectacle-shaped markings around her eyes. The jaguar that was Hermione stared back. Around the jaguar's neck was a black band, and on the end of the band was the vague shape of an hourglass.

Dumbledore clapped his hands in delight, the blue eyes behind the half-moon glasses were electric. "Well done! Well done! Now turn back," he said.

The two cats complied, and two humans emerged.

"One hundred points to Gryffindor! Fantastic! Marvelous!" Dumbledore was practically bouncing with excitement. Hermione observed him with amusement; in 1998, Dumbledore had always given an impression of great energy, but Hermione had never seen him this. "Please, please, please, sign here, sign here!" He held out a parchment and quill with a small list of regustered Animagi and their animal and distinguishing markings. After they had each signed their names (Minerva McGonagall and Charlotte Shannen; Hermione belatedly remembered having read the name when researching Animagi in third year.), Dumbledore banished the registration to the Ministry of Magic from whence it came.

"Oh, well done, I'm so proud, you have no idea, that proud..." Without warning, he knelt down and embraced them. "i feel like a father watching his daughters graduating. Really..." He pulled away and wiped tears of happiness from his eyes. "Well, you can go now, if you'd like. Celebrate. You have my permission to go to Hogmeade if you liek. I must tell the Headmaster, the universities; so much to do, so little time..."

Giggling, Minerva left Dumbledore's office, followed by Hermione.

"Oh, good show," purred the voice of Tom. Hermione jumped. "A magnificent beast to become."

"I'm glad I have your approval, Riddle," Hermione said coldly, her euphoria wearing off. Her attitude with Riddle kept swinging like a pendulum: sometimes, she could gladly tolerate him, and other times he reminded her too much of what he would be in the furture. In the near future if his permanent HJ7 potion was succesful.

"And it so completely defines you. I don't know if you've looked in a mirror lately, but you'd see you _are_ a girl, despite those robes you wear to hide it, especially now that you're using the Anti-Frizz Charm." He stroked her hair gently. Hermione jerked back. He hadn't attempted any forward behavior for weeks. "And it's a terrible beauty, Hermione, it makes one want to..." His hand reached out again, but Hermione backed against the opposite wall, two meters away from his casual position next to the office door.

"You have that fierceness, that power, that stealth. You are that mystical creature, that wild, mighty creature."

She was not used to being praised in such a way, and his complete lack of subtlty was uncharacteristic enough to make her wary.

"Go away Riddle.

Riddle smirked, then tossed a small box to her. "Happy Valentine's Day." Then he walked away.

Hermione waited until he had turned the corner before she opened the box. Lying on the velvet plush was a small vial that read in neat script: _Enhancement Potion- 60 Galleons_. On the back, the slip read: _Let the world see you as I do. Make that Harry stare and Hagrid drool. You deserve worship. T._

In a sudden bout or rebellion, and against all her common sense, Hermione opened the vial and downed the potion.

Scene: Hagrid's Hut

Hagrid and Hermione were talking about the giant squid in the lake and how it had grown when Hagrid suddenly became very quiet.

"You know, Charlotte," he said awkwardly, picking at his cuticles and refusing to look her in the eye, "we've been good friends since you fall, and I just..." The words caught in his throat. "Um, well, here." He thrust some pretty wildflowers into her hand.

Hermione stroked the velvety, delicate petals gently with a small smile.

"Hagrid, they're beautiful, but..." Hagrid's face crashed to the floor in disappointment. "Oh, no, don't take it that way. I love you to death, and you know it, but I hope you haven't expected more, because you're like a brother, or an uncle, to me."

"So," Hagrid said, sniffing, "yer sayin' Ah don' have a chance over tha' Riddle fellow."

"Hagrid," Hermione snapped emphatically, "do not bring up Riddle in the one place I can escape him."

Hagrid gave a hopeful grin. "So yeh don' like him?"

"Quite frankly, Hagrid, I'm still undecided about whether I like him or hate him. And not like him in _that_ way," Hermione said quickly. "He's just done some things good and some things, more things, bad. Now, let's forget him."

"Okay," said Hagrid, happy again.

But Hermione was struck by the way Riddle had known Hagrid liked her. The effects of the Enhancement Potion had begun to surface the week before. She had ceased using the Anti-Frizz Charm because her hari now settled into the curls naturally. Hermione non-descript chestnut-brown eyes had deepened slightly until they were softer, and to the distinct disgust of Hermione, doe-like. Her proportionate figure had thinned out a lot in the middle, and opposite in the chest. She grew two inces. She was forced to but completely new clothes at Hogsmeade, and when she went back home, she would have to bring the outdated clothes with her. She was profoundly beginning to regret having taken the potion. The person she saw in the mirror was not Hermione anymore, but someone Parvati or Lavender might generally hang out with, and that annoyed her as much as anything. Not to mention having to quickly adjust to having her weight redistributed in the course of only days.

At the thought of home, Hermione's thoughts snapped back to the present reality, or past reality, or, oh, whatever; the lines were less distinct now. Anyway, thinking of home made her dreadfully homesick.

Scene: Letter to Dumbledore from Hermione, written in Transfiguration class (which she had resumed after her Animagus transformation)

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_I need to ask you a terrific favor. Could you keep the forward Time Turner for me? I've been increasingly paranoid about it; I'm afraid I'll break it or someone will find it and steal it or some other disastrous event of that nature. Do you mind?_

_Hermione_

And so the five months commenced.

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A/N: I've been struck by how Hermione fics usually get rid of the frizz, and while I break Snapefic tradition with _Unfurling of a Rose_ , I don't have the energy to break Hermionefic tradition here. So the frizz goes. I just hope you forgive me for that and like my method of getting rid of it.

Also, I changed the length of time that the Time Turner must set to five months. In my ignorance, I hadn't realized that Hogwarts ends in the third week of June. Silly me, just because I end in May and begin in August...

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**Chapter 14: Confrontation**

---

_"How did you know me?" he asked._

_"On your side," said Mr. Utterson "will you do me a favour?"_

_"With pleasure," replied the other. "What shall it be?"_

_"Will you let me see your face?" asked the lawyer._

_Mr. Hyde appeared to hesitate, and then, as if upon some sudden reflection, fronted about with an air of defiance; and the pair stared at each other pretty fixedly for a few seconds. "Now I know you again," said Mr. Utterson. "It may be useful."_

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

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Hermione woke up that evening to the sounds of the morning bell rung without fail by Minerva. The poor Head Girl was finally calm now that she had passed the NEWTs with flying colors. Hermione had done the tests, too, and Professor Dumbledore had set the results in his desk drawer for "future" reference. Hermione would have to wait until she got home before she received the results.

Everyone was leaving that afternoon except Hermione, who wanted to remain long enough to say good-bye to everyone and everything. Her Time-Turner had finally emerged from its chrysalis and was free to be used whenever she wanted. Dumbledore had also furnished her with a gift. Because the Turner she had made was a year-Turner, if she went forward fifty years, she would finally be home at graduation of her seventh-year, and she would have been missed for a little less than half a year. As a gift, Professor Dumbledore gave her a day Time-Turner that went back in time to counter the effects of her own Turner.

When she had received the gift the day before, she had thrown her arms around Professor Dumbledore and hugged him tight. He had been surprised, but pleased.

"I'll miss you, Hermione, but you do have an advantage over my other students because I'll see you again."

Those had been their parting words, and Dumbledore had presented her with her own forward Time-Turner

888

The seventh-year girls were teary and sentimental, and while Hermione had always found such conduct embarrassing, she joined them, knowing that she was only going to see a few of them again.

She said good-bye to all of her teachers, even cantankerous Professor Figg, and then she went out to the giant squid and Hagrid's hut that he shared with Ogg.

She stroked the giant squid as she kissed Hagrid on the cheek and bid farewell to the ogre-like gamekeeper.

Then she went to Tom Riddle.

Hermione stood about two meters away as she whispered, "Good-bye, Riddle."

He just smiled and replied, "The permanent HJ7 potion is complete." He left her, and he did not look back.

888

The Great Hall was nearly empty. Only the teachers, Hermione, Hagrid, and Riddle occupied the entire teachers' table which had been moved to the center of the Hall.

Riddle sat on her left and Hagrid sat to her right. This arrangement made for a very quiet dinner. Dumbledore looked at the three with a piercing gaze that seemed to completely read the tension.

Hermione ate quickly and left. She hurried to her empty dormitory and closed the curtains to her bed. Midnight yawned from her pillow and crawled into her mistress's lap.

She was filled with a sort of nervous excitement. Home. She would be going home tomorrow morning. This is what she had worked for all year.

But then...

Home?

Where she was ignored by her peers, coddled by her teachers, and not understood by her parents? Where she would always be that Mudblood or that bookworm or teacher's pet? Not where she was just Hermione, something Harry or Ron couldn't understand anymore?

_No, I have to go back_, she told herself forcefully. _So maybe I don't like it, but I do belong_.

The thought did not imbue her with any sort of comfort, and she collapsed against her pillows and stared at the curtains, still in her school robes, until her eyes closed of their own accord and she slept.

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_"He is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something down-right detestable... He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, althought I couldn't specify the point..."_

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

Near the middle of the night she awoke, her eyes wide and alert. She would not be able to sleep again that night, she knew.

She slipped her feet over the edge of the bed and started walking. She did not care where she going, she just wanted the movement.

Harry had once told her that if one just starts walking in Hogwarts with no particular place to go, one's feet could take one to the most extraordinary places Hogwarts could offer. Hermione, being Hermione, had scoffed at his statement, but she always had somewhere specific to be. Harry almost never did whenever he went out on the castle at night. He had said it was always relaxing.

Hermione had put up with this "nonsense" from Harry mostly because he never told Ton. He think Ron might think he was sentimental. It was the last real thing he ever said to Hermione.

But now Hermione understood.

The school opened all its doors to her. But she did not enter any of the doors until she reached the trophy room where she heard a low mumbling.

Her hand reached out to grasp the doorknob. A cold finger of dread slid down her spine. But her new rebellious curiosity prevailed, and she turned the knob.

The room was void of any light save a pentagram of candles inside a chalked nine-meter diameter circle. A boy was standing directly in the center of the pentagram with his back facing her. The words... no- the incantations he was mumbling came in gutteral bouts from his throat. Suddenly he stopped and his shoulders slumped as the candle flames grew until they were as long as a finger. Hermione could see the boy better now. He had shaved his head bare and the light flickered horrifically on the white skull. He was wearing robes that merely draped over his shoulders; where his sleeves should have been, there were yards of cloth draped over his arms. When the boy moved, glimpses through the cracks revealed to her that the boy was naked underneath.

No, she need not kid herself. This was Riddle.

_No_, she thought again, revelation illuminating her face.

"Lord Voldemort," she breathed, terror paralyzing her where she stood.

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_--Nowhere was there a trace of Henry Jekyll, dead or alive._

_--Strange to relate, this ludicrous accoutrement was far from moving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me-- something seizing, surprising and revolting-- this fresh disparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce it; so that to my interest in the man's nature and character, there was added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, his fortune and status in the world._

_-_Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

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A/N: Ha ha ha ha! I'm leaving you there for now.


	8. Seduction, Back to the Future

**Title:** Dangerous Games (15-16)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Drama  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Voldemort Jekyll/Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** Have you ever pictured Snape singing the "Rubber Ducky" song? Got that in my head in my car yesterday and nearly had a hysterical fit.  
  
In Chapter 16 is my fourth depiction of Snape. All of them are different.  
  
If anyone wants to discuss (not review) DG, go to my Review Forum, and there's a thread there. Details at the thread.

**Chapter 15: Seduction**

---

_-"And now," said he, "to settle what remains. Will you be wise? will you be guided? will you suffer me to take this glass in my hand and to go forth from your house without further parley? or has the greed of curiosity too much command of you? Think before you answer, for it shall be done as you decide. As you decide, you shall be left as you were before, and neither richer nor wiser, unless the sense of service rendered in a man in mortal distress may be counted as a kind of riches of the soul. Or, if you shall so prefer to choose, a new province of knowledge and new avenues to fame and power shall be laid open to you, in this room, upon this instant; and your sight shall be blasted by a prodigy to stagger the unbelief of Satan..."_

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

_Wait!/ What's this?_

_Sweet miss!/ I thought I has lost you!_

_It's fate!/ What bliss!_

_Sweet miss!/ Your folly will cost you dear_

_My dear/ You'll see_

_You'll never escape me!/ I'm here_

_I fear_

_And you will pay dear,/ My dear..._

-selection from "Alive" from JEKYLL & HYDE

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The boy did not even flinch or turn. His head bowed; a low growl escaped his lips.

"Hermione."

The hairless head lifted as he inhaled deeply.

"Have a seat." He waved his wand, and a simple wooden chair appeared halfway between him and the door. Hermione approached it warily and sat down, but Voldemort did not move.

"Why did you come here when you knew I'd be here? Stupid, foolish girl, I am not Tom Riddle, I do not have the same qualms over your dead body."

Hermione looked down. "I didn't come here on purpose."

"Yes, you did." He breathed deeply again, exhaling with another growl. "Don't think you can fool me, Hermione, and don't think you can fool yourself forever. Think, girl, _why did you come here when you knew I'd be here?_"

"I _didn_'_t_."

Voldemort chuckled in his throat. "Subconscious curiosity can be a dangerous game, Hermione. Have you ever wanted to run a blade along the vulnerable veins in your wrist just to see the blood? Or how about taking a spoon and gouging out your eye, has that ever crossed your mind? Or even raising your wand and screaming _'Avada Kedavra'_ just to feel the rush of death and the coolness of a new soul floating on the breeze? Or... coming to watch the birth of pure evil. Each of them ends the same. You know this. And yet you come. Why?"

Hermione shook her head violently, trying to rid her mind of the forbidden yet enticing images Voldemort had put there. "I'm telling you, I don't know."

"Tell me, Hermione. Have you ever felt such power as I know you sense in me now? Killing, it makes one powerful. It is only with death that we can conquer it. The absolute pleasure in killing Peeves, then my father, grandfather, and grandmother. Then a few people of the streets no one will ever miss. You have no idea the exhilaration, the ecstasy. So _alive_, like one is taking, draining, drinking the life from the blood of the victim."

"Tom would never have done any of that," Hermione said quietly.

He chuckled again. "Really? Then why did he free me?" He paused. "In fact, why did _you_ free me? You knew, didn't you, that I would become this terrible thing. Why did you still want to see my face after knowing the result?"

"You made me, Lord Voldemort," she replied, "in a deal I should never have made."

Another deep breath.

"The power first came to me at eleven, when my magic first revealed itself in the form of venomous emerald viper. It bit my mathematics teacher; he nearly died. I remember I laughed and congratulated the serpent, then set it loose on the world. I shortly received my Hogwarts letter. I felt I was given my compensation for all those years I was taken advantage of. I could finally get my own back. I could show the world I was more than just a poor orphan who needed a scholarship to even attend Hogwarts.

"And I did show them. They, the Slytherins, taunted me at first for being only of half-blood. But I showed them."

Voldemort seem to derive particular joy from that statement.

"Soon they knew I was Slytherin's own Heir, with his blood flowing through these very veins, with great power at my hands, Parseltongue, and a love of curses. They learned to beware of me. As you should have."

"You never hurt me before," Hermione said.

"I could hurt you now," Voldemort murmured.

"Then why don't you?"

"I'm not finished with you yet. And I'm the one asking the questions, not you!" The sharpness of these last words silenced Hermione. "Why did you come here?"

"I-" Hermione swallowed. Okay, so obviously it was not pure chance that had brought her here, but she could not remember really having anywhere in particular to go when she had left Gryffindor tower. Then it occurred to her. "Of course. You Summoned me."

His laugh rang throughout the trophy room, reverberating off the walls like barbed needles. "Very good, Hermione. And, now that you've begun thinking again, something you do rather well when you start, why do you think I did this?"

Hermione shuddered. "To kill me, finally."

"Wrong," he growled, not unpleasantly.

"Let me ask you, Hermione, can you imagine what I felt when I found the Chamber of Secrets, when I saw the basilisk and did not die, when I commanded it to do what it was made to do?"

"To kill Muggleborns, like me," Hermione interjected.

"No, foolish girl, you've been misinformed. The basilisk was made to purge the halls of the impure. You may be Muggle-born, but you are not impure. Oddly enough, Muggle-borns tend toward that impurity of which we speak. It is difficult to find, but not at all difficult to discern for the intelligent. That was the basilisk's chore. Then, to blame another for the death and escape clean, unscathed, and even honored... I have the school at my fingertips.

"Can you imagine the power derived from a kill, the sheer exhilaration? First Myrtle, then Peeves, then my father... oh, my father..."

Voldemort clenched his fists as he continued. "Everyone in that town knew the Riddles, and they all had something horrible to say when I inquired. Then I went to him, my father. He was spoiled, selfish, conceited, condescending, a parasite of a man. This was the man my mother fell in love with, but he was too good for marriage and magic.

"I told him I was his son, and I killed him. I wanted to do it slower, let him feel every biting insect of humiliation and pain his abandonment gave to my mother and me. But my grandparents were there as well. I had to get rid of them quickly to avoid a fuss.

"What little life force they had came to me, to their detested relative. My father, who hated magic, only fuelled my own."

Voldemort turned around slowly, waving his wand to banish the chair. Hermione fell to the floor, then hurriedly stood back up. The robes were open in the front, but Hermione was too mesmerised to even look away as she saw him, bare and beautiful. She stepped back until she was against the wall.

"Now do you know why I summoned you, Hermione? I once told you killing you was only one primal act I desired upon you. Now do you know? Run, little Hermione, run if you want to remain pure this night." His grin was terrible, vulpine in nature, and the glint in his scarlet eyes was nearly unbearable. But as Hermione's reason was shrieking at her to leave, her breath quickened, and she could feel her heart pound, blood thrumming through her body.

"Would you like my power, Hermione?" he whispered. His very words swept across the room and curled through her hair and down her spine. Hermione closed her eyes at the touch.

When she opened her eyes, he was there, right in front of her. He swiftly reached around her and closed the trophy room door.

Then he shoved her against the wall and pressed his lips against hers. In one desperate movement, he tore her robes in two and threw them to the floor, leaving her only in her corset, camisole, and flannel slacks she always wore under her robes.

Hermione responded immediately, reason fleeing from where it was no longer wanted. She pushed aside his robes as the force of his kiss lifted her off the ground, relying only on himself and the wall to hold her up. She opened her mouth and swiftly caressed his tongue with hers, running her nails in bloody streaks down his back, growing more and more aroused as she felt him pressing against her where she was most sensitive, where she most wanted him.

He wrenched himself away and bit her neck, tasting blood as he undid the strings of her corset under the camisole.

"Hermione, closer," Voldemort moaned, and he growled into her collarbone.

She slid her hands against his heated skin, relishing each movement he made under her administrations. _She_ was doing this to him. He wanted _her_. The realization was as sweet in her mouth as him.

A sudden bout of their connected, intense desire summoned a four-poster bed into the middle of the room. Biting, growling, and clawing, Voldemort dragged Hermione to the bed and mounting her.

Hermione arched to meet him, but then Voldemort smiled against her shoulder and began kissing her slowly and deliberately, making her pull him closer to hurry the contact. His sensuous languidness was agonizingly sweet to Hermione, and when Voldemort did not initiate anything more real, Hermione began to stroke him where he was most vulnerable to her. He gasped at the intimate touch. Then he propped himself onto his elbows and stroked her hair gently.

"Tell me, Hermione, is this what you want?" His face was red, and he was slightly breathless, but his eyes burned crimson in earnest.

Hermione forced herself to breathe regularly and answered, "As Lord Voldemort, if I did not, would you care?"

"No," he said bluntly. He slid his tongue against her neck where the blood was welling up again. She moaned in pleasure. "But I would feel so much more... satisfied... knowing..."

Hermione stroked his upper arm and kissed the corner of his mouth, making him purr against her lips. "I'm not running, am I? You gave me the chance to run, and I stayed. I want you, Lord Voldemort. Now. I want you."

"Good," he hissed, and he closed the curtains of the bed, leaving behind a bloody hand print on the fabric.

888

_You flatter, sir/ You really do!_

_With half a chance..._

_What would you do?_

_Don't ask me!_

_Here's to the night!/ Here's to romance!_

_To those unafraid/ of taking a chance!_

-selection from "Lucy Meets Jekyll"

888888

**Chapter 16: Back to the Future** (I couldn't resist :)...)

Hermione woke up slowly and drunkenly, with vague memories of champagne bubbles gushing inside of her, then overflowing at the climax. She did not know when Voldemort had pulled away, sweating and panting, and settled beside her on the bed. She did not know when she had fallen asleep, dreaming of lions hunting their prey.

She felt stretched and aching, the dried blood on her neck and arms and chest and back and belly crackling as she shifted. Her back and shoulders stung from Voldemort's violent passion, but she felt... what was it he had said last night?... satisfied. Yes, that was it. She sighed in pleasure as she felt his mouth presently against her shoulder and his hand on her sore breast, his body pressed to hers. His even breathing revealed that he still slept.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slipped from underneath his arm and opened the curtain, peeking through.

She almost shrieked when she saw Apollyon Pringle grinning at her.

"The girls Riddle chooses rarely escape him, my dear," he said calmly. "Perhaps he has spoiled you, I don't suppose you'd mind if I..." He shed his coat and began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Hermione gaped in shock for a few moments, but as Pringle unzipped his fly, Hermione took the first action that came to her mind. Closing her eyes, she willed her body to transfigure.

When Pringle looked up again, he faced a full-grown jaguar with deadly sharp teeth and claws. His mouth opened like a gutted fish.

"He bedded a powerful slut this time," he said carefully. "I'll leave."

The jaguar growled balefully as Pringle backed out of the room. Hermione emerged from the spotted pelt after she heard him far down the hall. She sat down on the floor and pulled on the clothes Voldemort had removed.

Two things struck her as peculiar about the whole experience. First, she knew she had just made love to Lord Voldemort, the sworn enemy to Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter, the two people she loved the most at home, and yet, she felt no shame. The second thing was the odd sensation of fullness, like she was more than just one person and was looking at herself from the outside of her body.

And, she thought with a rather wry smile, stroking her stomach, she might very well be more than one person.

She stood up and said softly, "_Accio_ Time-Turners." After a few minutes, the hourglasses dangling on her chain came tentatively into the trophy room, and, after confirming that Hermione was the girl who summoned them, they floated into her hands.

She slipped both of them over her head and slowly stood. She closed her eyes and was about to turn the hourglass when she turned back. Her fingers let the Turners fall between her breasts.

Hermione opened the four-poster's curtains, letting a slit of light illuminate Voldemort's face. Smiling peacefully, she reached out and stroked his cheek, her first lover.

"Goodbye, Tom," she whispered gently, withdrawing her hand and closing the curtains.

Then she Summoned her trunk full of the only clothes that fit her new body and her cat, rather annoyed at flying through the air, and she turned the hourglass.

From the window near the ceiling of the trophy room beamed a square column of light. The dust motes twisted and danced from the sudden disturbance of time change.

The light made the Special Awards for Services shields shine. One in particular glinted like gold; it was inscribed _T. M. Riddle._

888

_-Somewhere I know there's a someday/ That's just for me_

_Everybody has a "someday"/ So why not me?_

_Lucy, do you really need to/ Fill your heart with empty dreams._

_You'll always be what you are/ Stop chasing that distant star!_

_Night time is where we live/ Night is when we give_

_Everything we have to give._

_Most lovers can rejoice/ We don't have a choice_

_We just know/ We have to give._

_That's why the day/ Can never be bright_

_For the girls of the night._

_Fly away, fly away/ Let me find my wings!_

_Let me be/ The girl I want to be!_

_I'm afraid to fly away/ For all I have is here!_

_I have my hopes/ I have a child_

_And children must be fed._

_Forget your hopes/ Or you will be misled!_

_With the dawn they disappear!/ Then why are mine still here?_

_Ask me to share/ Your fantasies, dear_

_But don't ask me/ Where tomorrow is._

_Don't ask me/ where to find happiness_

_But I know for sure/ Where sorrow is._

_Sorrow is where the dark meets the light..._

_Someday I pray my fear will take flight..._

_Sorrow is where all hope fades from sight..._

_For the girls of the night..._

-excerpts from "The Girls of the Night" from JEKYLL & HYDE

-_"Weeping like a woman or a lost soul," said the butler. "I came away with that upon my heart, that I could have wept too."_

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

Hermione suddenly found herself face-to-face with Filch in the year 1999 in June. His eyes widened in shock, but he had no time to say anything before Hermione had substituted the forward year Turner with the backward day Turner and had turned this one as well. She disappeared again.

When she arrived back in the trophy room nearer to her previous time, she sighed with relief at the chill in the air.

"Home," she breathed.

"Indeed, Miss Granger," said a voice from behind her.

Hermione jumped and spun around to face the smiling, but old face of Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Come," he said softly. "Professor McGonagall is waiting for you in my office." He slipped an arm about her shoulder and led her out of the trophy room.

888

The morning after Hermione had went back in time and immediately before Hermione came back from the past, Lord Voldemort woke from his restless slumber.

He no longer dreamed. He had lost that blessing decades ago. No, the vision surfacing in his mind was a memory of one of his previous selves. His first two in face. Oh, this was a rare treat. The gap between Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort was equivalent to a large ocean. He had whiffs of memories, but usually not this far back.

His eyes widened as the memory played itself out.

Then, "Harry," he hissed, "that is what she said. Similar appearances. A great wizard."

He laughed maniacally as the clues fit into each other like in a puzzle.

"Harry Potter." He spat out the name. "She is close to Harry Potter."

888

"Why, Severus, I did not expect to see you here."

The sneering Potions Master was lounging in one of the crimson, winged chairs flanking Professor Dumbledore's desk. He was sharing a malicious glare with Minerva McGonagall when Professor Dumbledore and Hermione walked into the office.

"Headmaster," Snape said, standing. "Miss Granger."

One look told Hermione that he knew. Her hand involuntarily flew to her stomach.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall exclaimed suddenly, interrupting Snape and looking as excited as she had about fifty years ago. "I'm so proud of you. To think I never knew Charlotte Shannen was you until Albus told me. Welcome home!" The professor looked at the half-dressed girl before her. "You look different, Miss Granger."

She flushed and sense Snape's quick, black eyes were focussing on her physical improvements and she knew he would deduce she was under the effects of the Enhancement Potion.

"A year is a long time," Snape murmured softly, inexplicable saving Hermione an explanation.

"Indeed," replied Professor Dumbledore, "but there is something that Professor McGonagall needs to tell you. She has kept her peace, and she wanted to wait for your arrival."

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said, her expressive face becoming its strict mask once again, "I wanted you to know that when you had been spending your time with Tom Riddle-- I know you'll be astonished-- you were spending time with You-Know-Who."

"She knew," accused Snape from behind Professor McGonagall.

"Ridiculous, Severus, she was Petrified in the hospital wing when he was revealed to be You-Know-Who, how could she possibly...?"

"That is enough," Dumbledore said quietly. "Minerva, I have to ask you to wait outside. You may speak with Miss Granger in a few minutes. For the moment, I wish to speak with her about certain matters. If you will..."

Professor McGonagall, still glowering at Snape, exited the room huffily.

"Now, Miss Granger," Snape hissed, "I would like you to read _this_."

He thrust a piece of parchment under Hermione's nose and crossed his arms, waiting for her reaction.

_Severus, give this to a Muggle-born named Hermione._

_V._

Then:

_Dearest Hermione,_

_Remember me? For you it has only been a few hours. For me it has been decades. Remember the fire that lit you like a torch, your heat radiating across the room? Remember the blood, the flesh, sweet flesh, against your mouth? Remember when your heat became a volcano. Remember the power between us and inside us?_

_I remember._

_I seem to recall that you mistook me for a Harry, I believe, my vague, anonymous rival at the time. Your Harry is Harry Potter, isn't he?_

_You have made a fatal error, Hermione, by giving yourself to me from the beginning. How do you think your Harry will react when I tell him his best friend has slept with Lord Voldemort willingly, no bargain, no Imperius Curse, her own choice. You knew me from the beginning; you cannot deny this, my dear._

_I will be seeing you again, Hermione._

_Love always,_

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_P.S. Or, if you really want to be technical, now that I am only part of Riddle, now fully possessing him, I am_

_Lord Voldemort_

---

_Lisa Carew, can this be you?/ What kind of man is this/ You've taken?_

_Can you not see/ The kind of life/ That this would be?/ You are mistaken!_

_Time to awaken/ Before it's too late._

_Before you forever/ Determine your fate!_

-excerpt from "Lisa Carew" from JEKYLL & HYDE

---

"Miss Innocent, bookish, teacher's pet Miss Granger knows _exactly_ who she befriended," Snape said softly, "and bedded."

Professor Dumbledore arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Careful of what you accuse Miss Granger of doing, Severus. Assumptions are not reliable enough. As a Potions Master, you ought to know that."

Snape snorted. "I make no assumptions, Headmaster. Read the letter for yourself. It arrived here an hour ago by Voldemort's private owl. Imagine my bemusement when I unfolded the parchment and found the letter indirectly addressed to Miss Granger in Voldemort's own handwriting. Then imagine my full-blown bafflement when I read the letter myself." He snatched the parchment from Hermione's hands and held it out for Dumbledore to see. "Read, Headmaster."

Professor Dumbledore hesitated before taking the parchment. Hermione was shaking, and she would not look either man in the eye. Dumbledore read the letter, his shoulders slowly drooping in weariness.

Hermione braced herself for Professor Dumbledore's fury or disappointment. She closed her eyes and waited, her arms around her belly.

When Dumbledore finished, he dropped the parchment on his desk and slumped into the nearest chair. He buried his head in his hands.

---

_The rosy man had grown pale; his flesh had fallen away; he was visibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much these tokens of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer's notice, as a look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to some deep-seated terror of the mind. It was unlikely that the doctor should fear death; and yet that was what Utterson was tempted to suspect._

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

---

"I told you, Hermione, to stay away from Riddle," cried a muffled voice from behind those hands. "I know you were lonely; I know you were shunned here and there; I know you were frustrated; I know you were desperate, but why did it have to go this far?"

"Silly girl," Snape snapped, "how could you be so careless? Did you forget the past affects the future?"

"No," Hermione whispered. Her thought were swelling in her head, threatening to explode from her. "I knew precisely what I was doing."

Dumbledore looked up. Snape froze.

"You forget one thing, Headmaster, sir," Hermione said carefully. "I was _tired_. I was tired of being alone; I was tired of being shunned from being what I am; I was tired of people telling me to change and killing me in the process."

"Oh, boo, hoo," sneered Snape.

"Shut up, Professor, I'm not finished." Snape obeyed, more out of surprise at hearing Hermione Granger tell a teacher to shut up than willing compliance.

"I was tired of being laughed at and spit upon; I was tired of conforming; I was tired of waiting.

"The Sorting Hat told me I could have been good in Slytherin, repeating Riddle's words on the train almost verbatim.

"When I entered Gryffindor again, I was shunned there, too, for attempting to return home in the best way I knew how.

"I'm sorry, Professors, if people were hurt or killed, but he did not hurt or kill _me_. He saw me as I was and found me desirable. He saw my intelligence and found power. He saw my talents, and he cultivated them. I saw him rip fresh boomslang skin with his bare hands, but he would barely touch my hair. He was careful, tender, protective, and jealous.

"Something you may not understand, Professors, is that Tom Riddle is _not_ Lord Voldemort. Tell me, Professor Snape, how many perfections were made on the HJ7 potion?"

"He last completed HJ15," answered Snape.

"Each HJ potion has retrieved more and more evil from the personality of Riddle. Riddle was cruel, yes, but he was hardly a murderer then. Myrtle was an accident."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You have succumbed to him if you believe everything you say."

"Why do you not? If you can find a flaw in the truth, please tell me."

Snape fell silent.

"Why, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked solemnly. "Why did you have to choose Riddle?"

Hermione smiled grimly. "I didn't," she replied. "Riddle chose me. From the very beginning, he pursued me."

"How many times did you sleep with him?" Snape hissed menacingly, seething beneath his calm exterior.

Hermione laughed again, and the resemblance between her and Tom Riddle increased. "Only once, Professor; I am not his whore."

Snape snorted.

---

-_Dear Mr. Stride, I am simply a scientist/ I have a code, to which I remain true!_

_I don't presume to the stature of moralist/ I leave pretension like that, sir, to you!_

- excerpts from "Board of Governors" from JEKYLL & HYDE

---

Then Hermione turned nasty. "With who or what I sleep is really none of your business, _Professor_. I am not ashamed of what I did. It was my choice, and even as much as I hate T-- _Voldemort_-- I would not take it back if I could."

"Then you are his whore. He's been looking for a good one for years, but he hasn't found one yet. Tell me, _Miss_ Granger, what are you going to tell your precious Potter?" Snape snapped.

"Absolutely nothing," Hermione shot back. "You've actually given me a nice bit of information, Professor, so I'll go on living as though I was never gone. In fact, no one should have even noticed my absence too much. I only disappeared this early morning. Anyway, I don't spend much time with him now," she said bitterly. "He left me for Ron's company. There was another use for Riddle. He reminded me of my times with Harry before... Then again, it's Tom's fault that Harry's distraught... It all gets so confusing."

"So you're just going to ignore Lord Voldemort's letter?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yes. Let him come."

"Hermione," whisper Dumbledore, making both Hermione and Snape jump. They had forgotten he was still in his own office. "Do you believe that what you did was harmful to anyone, particularly yourself?"

"Of course she does, Headmaster. She put Potter and herself and all of Hogwarts into danger. Isn't that what you are fighting _against_?"

"I was asking Hermione, Severus."

Snape's mouth clamped shut, but his teeth began grinding in frustration.

Hermione looked straight in Dumbledore's eyes and shook her head. "It is Lord Voldemort who has put himself into an uncomfortable position, Headmaster, especially if he..." Her hand curled against her belly. Her eyes glowed with a not entirely good light. "I am not afraid of him. Because, you see, if he comes here, he'll be faced with himself."

"Miss Granger," said Professor Snape.

"Yes, Professor."

"Before you leave, you might want to heal that... hickey on your neck."

Hermione gave him a defiant glare, then stalked out of the office, the hickey remaining in place.

888

-_O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend._

_-...and indeed, had it not been for his fear of death, he would long ago have ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin. But his love of life is wonderful; I go further: I, who sicken and freeze at the mere thought of him, when I recall the abjection and passion of this attachment, and when I know how he fears my power to cut him off by suicide, I find it in my heart to pity him._

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

-_But, Simon, you knew/ I had to be free!_

_What I choose to do/ Is decided by me!_

_But when it comes to marriage/ I must pick whom I prefer!_

_I'm not the weak young thing/ You're seeking, Simon_

_Someone seventeen, obedient and sweet!_

_I am not the protege/ to waste you time on_

_I'm complete!_

-excerpt from "Lisa Carew" from JEKYLL & HYDE

-_All these precious years/ I dedicated to this dream._

_Now with a word/ They claim the power/ To deny me!_

_Who are they to judge what I am doing?/ They know nothing_

_Of the endless possibilities I see!_

-excerpt from "Board of Governors" from JEKYLL & HYDE

888888


	9. Repercussions, For Every Action, Every D...

**Title:** Dangerous Games (17-19)  
**Author name:** Lunalelle  
**Author email:**   
**Category:** Drama  
**Sub Category:** Romance  
**Keywords:** Hermione Tom Riddle Voldemort Jekyll-Hyde  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB  
**Summary:** An analogy between Jekyll/Hyde and Tom Riddle/Voldemort for the intellectually inclined. Hermione has an accident, the Time Turner is destroyed, and she's stuck in 1943. She meets young Tom Riddle in his seventh year, Head Boy, and in his prime. However, he takes quite an interest in Hermione. Considerably dark, Herm/Voldie pairing, and some blood and gore, plus extensive creativity on the HJ7 potion.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**Author notes:** After reading OotP, I realized most of my ending, and my appointment for Figg as a previous Potions Mistress, was completely negated. I'm a bit bitter about it, but I'm not changing a thing. Please read the essay at the end. It's short, not at all stiff, quite conversational...

**Chapter 17: Repercussions**

Hermione stalked out of the office and ran to the Gryffindor common room. She gasped the password to the Fat Lady, climbed through the portrait hole, and rushed to the table where Harry was losing wizard's chess to Ron.

Before either of them could say, " 'Lo, 'Mione," she had thrown her arms around both of their necks and was crying into both of their shoulders.

"Have another breakdown, 'Mione?" Ron asked, patting her head awkwardly.

Hermione jerked away and slapped Ron upside the head, still bawling.

"Wake up, Ron!" she shouted. "If any brain cell in there is listening, I want you to know you are a selfish, self-righteous, immature, whiny brat, and I love you and Harry so much! Don't ever change. I'm sorry I did." She fell to the floor, nearly in hysterics now, to thunderous applause by the other Gryffindors in the room.

Ron shared a baffled look with Harry. The insults had cut him deeper than he was willing to admit. Harry shrugged, stumped. Then he bent down and gave Hermione an awkward hug, and froze.

"Hermione, you look different," Harry exclaimed. Hermione looked up from her hands, and now the entire common room could see her new appearance. Parvati and Lavender gasped simultaneously, and Ron's mouth dropped open.

Of course, the lack of her robes aided her beauty. Her voluptuousness was bare for all to see. And no one missed the bite marks along her shoulders, collarbone, and neck. It was a good thing they did not also see the dried blood under her clothes as well.

"Oooh, Hermione, who are you sleeping with?" Lavender asked keenly.

"No one," Hermione said brusquely, opening her trunk and donning one of her robes from fifty years before. Midnight peeked out from behind the trunk, then scurried up the stairs, relying on smell to find her mistress's room. Crookshanks was sleeping on Hermione's bed, and he did not react well to the little whippersnapper disrupting his nap, but the scent of his mistress made him tolerate the kitten, and soon Midnight was sleeping right next to the old man.

"If you don't mind, Harry, Ron, I'd like to talk to you alone." She stressed the last word. "Why don't we go to my quarters?"

Ignoring Parvati and Lavender's giggles, Harry, with furrowed brow, and Ron, with his own bewildered face, followed Hermione to her rooms.

"It was the Time Turner..." she said, beginning her story.

888

-_Here is a chance to take charge of our fate_

_Deep down you must know/ That tomorrow's too late!_

_One rule of life we cannot rearrange._

_The only thing constant is change!_

-_Henry, I'm not questioning your motives here!_

_But is what you are seeking worth the price?_

_You've turned you're back on everything you once held dear._

_You're choosing to ignored your friend's advice._

_You have your work/ And nothing more!_

_You are possessed/ What is your demon?_

_You've never been/ This way before_

_You've lost the fire/ You built your dream on!_

_There's something strange/ There's something wrong_

_I see a change/ It's like when love dies._

_I who have know/ You for so long_

_I see the pain in your eyes._

-selections from "Board of Governors" and "His Work and Nothing More" from JEKYLL & HYDE

888

She told them that she had gone back to about fifty years before and that she had become an Animagus while finding a way back home.

"That's our 'Mione," sniggered Ron. "Even when her fate is at stake, she still has a side project." He shut up when Hermione shot daggers at him with her new dark brown eyes.

Then she told them off-handedly that Tom Marvolo Riddle was Head Boy that year. They reacted much as expected, but she lied by saying she rarely ever saw him.

It hurt her to realize lying had become effortless.

Unfortunately, she could not hide from the truth so easily.

After a month, Hermione realized with trepidation that she had not had her time of the month. After two months, her worst suspicions were confirmed, and she went to Madam Pomfrey for a test. Madam Pomfrey gave her a very disapproving look when the test results were positive.

Her belly began to ever-so-slightly bulge.

888

Three months after she had returned, she was having to wear her larger, bulkier robes to conceal the pregnancy. Harry and Ron were beginning to notice, but they were still being polite about it and did not ask.

Most of the seventh-year Slytherins had not noticed her belly, but they had observed her 'sudden' transformation. They ceased their endless taunts, though Pansy was less than pleased, and began sulkily greeting her with terse grunts. However, she could not keep Draco's keen eyes from seeing her slowly rounding belly. He began asking her privately whether she might have mated with a hippopotamus.

Personally, she preferred his abuse to his silence. It made everything seem more normal.

Entering four months, Hermione could see that Harry was biting his tongue to not ask her. Ron was pointedly ignoring the fact and acted like he had not noticed how she had stopped eating in the morning but tucked in with renewed fervor at lunch.

Nobody could hide her nausea in morning advanced Potions. Everyone expected Snape to say something snide, but instead, he just stood there with his hands behind his back, letting Hermione throw up in the washbasin while wetting her forehead with the icy cold water spewing from the gargoyle's mouth. He resumed his lesson when she had taken her seat.

Maybe he thought the baby was punishment enough.

Only Neville tremulously asked her, not in so many words, who the father was once in Potions. Snape stiffened until Hermione answered:

"Rejoice, Neville, for unto you, a virgin has conceived. Don't forget the Fer-de-lance fangs or else the nightshade powder will cause the potion to overflow."

Only Harry saw Snape smother a smirk.

Harry was suspicious.

After class, he whispered in her ear, only half-joking, "Hermione, you haven't been sleeping with Snape, have you?"

Hermione gave him a scathing glower before Harry decided that, for now, it was none of his business.

888888

**Chapter 18: For Every Action**

---

_Could it be?/ Have I really lost my way?_

_Have I lost my mind?/ Will I lose the day?_

_Am I a good man?/ Am I a madman?_

_It's such a fine line/ Between a good man and a bad..._

-excerpt from "No One Must Ever Know" from JEKYLL & HYDE

---

_Severus,_

_Remember the hair all my Death Eaters gave me? I know of your treachery, and those of others, but such things matter little to me. You know as well as I do that you are my only link to Dumbledore, and you're Dumbledore's only link to me. Anticipating your change of heart, I obtained the hairs from my Death Eaters for future use in potions, whether something beneficial or malevolent for the subject._

_I know you will want to give this letter directly to Dumbledore, so I am going to reveal to you the entire plot. I am going to take one of my Polyjuices that you so conveniently concocted for me. Inside that potion, I shall place one lock of hair. I shall drink that potion, then Apparate directly outside Hogwarts gates. I will calmly walk into the gates and into the Hall by the main entrance. I will summon your clothes for my use. I will then snare Potter, and all through this charade, they'll think I'm you. Do you know why, Severus? You see, Nagini has been hiding among Blackeye's feathers, and when you finish reading these words, she'll have pumped your with enough venom to render you unconscious. Thank you, Severus, you've been of great help to me. Oh, did I forget to mention I've already taken the potion, and I am standing at the gate. I shall continue writing because I love my own scroll. I have a score to settle, Severus: with Harry Potter, and with Hermione._

_V._

Snape only had enough time to gape at the letter and marvel at his own stupidity.

888

(This song is it, folks. If you haven't read my quotes so far, shame on you, and at least read this song. It's on which my title is based, for heaven's sake)

_-I feel your fingers/ Brushing my shoulder_

_Your tempting touch/ As it tingles my spine_

_Watching your eyes as they invade my soul_

_Forbidden pleasures/ I'm afraid to make mine..._

_At the touch of your hand/ At the sound of your voice_

_At the moment your eyes meet mine_

_I am out of my mind/ I am out of control_

_Full of feelings I can't define._

_It's a sin with no name/ Like a tiger to tame_

_And my sense proclaim/ It's a dangerous game!_

_A darker dream/ That has no ending_

_Something unreal/ That you want to be true._

_A strange romance/ Out of a mystery tale_

_The frightened princess/ Doesn't know what to do!_

_Does she just run away?/ Does she risk it and stay?/ Either way there's no way to win!_

_All I know is I'm lost/ And I'm counting the cost/ My emotions are in a spin._

_And though no one's to blame,/ It's a crime and a shame_

_But it's true all the same/ It's a dangerous game!_

_No one speaks/ Not one word/ All the words are in our eyes._

_Silence speaks/ Loud and clear/ All the words we/ Want to hear._

_At the touch of your hand/ At the sound of your voice_

_At the moment your eyes meet mine_

_I am out of my mind/ I am out of control_

_Full of feelings I can't define._

_It's a sin with no name/ Like a tiger to tame_

_And though no one's to blame.../ It's a crime and a shame_

_And the angels proclaim..._

_It's a dangerous game!_

- "It's A Dangerous Game" from JEKYLL & HYDE

-_The steps fell lightly and oddly, with a certain swing, for all they went so slowly; it was different indeed from the heavy creaking tread of Henry Jekyll._

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888

Harry picked at his chicken half-heartedly as he watched Hermione devour three chicken legs, a mound of potatoes smother in gravy, three buttered muffins, a small pile of steamed broccoli and carrots, and a large slice of pie. Finally, he slammed down his fork, and said, "Hermione, why don't you just tell us why you're going to have a baby. Whose is it? It has to be someone from the past, so whose?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Potter," murmured Snape from behind Harry's chair. His hands slipped around Harry's neck. "But if you really knew, you'd wish you never heard it."

"Snape," snarled Harry, "I always knew..." But then Snape laughed, cutting Harry off in revelation. It was a high, hard, cruel laugh that was extremely familiar, but not Snape's laugh at all. Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were as big as saucers. But, with a rise of encouragement, he saw her slip her hand into her robes. During her last few years, she had become better at remembering that she was a witch during adversity.

But the pseudo-Snape noticed as well and laughed even harder.

"Hermione, put that petty toy aside. My powers have multiplied so that I don't need a wand anymore, as useful as they are, as I'm sure you would be glad to know."

The camaraderie with which pseudo-Snape spoke to Hermione was unsettling.

"Voldemort," Harry gasped as the fingers that felt like Snape's tightened around Harry's neck.

---

_Do you really think/ That I would ever let you go?_

_Do you think I'd ever set you free?_

_It you do, I'm said to say/ It simply isn't so_

_You will never get away from me!_

- excerpt from "The Confrontation" from JEKYLL & HYDE

---

"Oh, very clever, Potter. Ah, Albus, yes, come join us. And Minerva McGonagall, I haven't seen you directly since school. You look positively ghastly."

Voldemort's casual air immediately Albus Dumbledore wary. That composure meant one of two things: either Voldemort was bluffing (highly unlikely) or he had a trick up his sleeve. Too late he remembered Voldemort's letter to Hermione.

"Yes, I am Lord Voldemort," the pseudo-Snape announced to the entire Hall. He closed his eyes with pleasure and tightened his fingers further as the Hall erupted into blissful chaos.

Suddenly, he felt slim fingers grasping his and wrenching them away from Harry's neck. Voldemort opened Snape's eyes and saw Hermione had crawled over the table and was now pushing Harry behind her and into Dumbledore.

"Good evening, my dear Hermione," Voldemort said with a throaty chuckle. "Being a true Gryffindor, I see, protecting Potter from the evil clutches of Lord Voldemort, but..."

"Leave it, Voldemort," she hissed.

" 'Leave it,' Hermione? Tell me, Albus, Minerva, _Harry_, do you know of poor Miss _Shannen's_ adventure into the past?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered as he realized what Voldemort was going to say now that the whole Hall, and especially Harry, was listening.

"Hermione," Dumbledore whispered, "he's going to--"

Hermione's hand stopped his statement. She was standing directly before the Snape-like Voldemort, her eyes burning.

"Be careful of what you say, Lord Voldemort," she said softly.

"Did she tell you, Potter, that she met a few people that you know in that time?"

Harry stammered from behind Dumbledore, "W-what is he trying to say, 'Mione?"

Hermione stared at Snape's smirking countenance. She whispered despairingly, "I'm sorry, Harry." Then she let her head fall and waited for Voldemort to finish the tale.

---

..._and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he was wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria..._

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

---

Seeing that he had won, Voldemort continued. "Tell me, Potter, did she tell you that she met Tom Marvolo Riddle in the past?"

A silence followed before Harry realized that this was not rhetorical.

"Yes. But Her--"

"And what did she tell you of me?" Voldemort murmured quietly, licking Snape's lips as though there was a tasty morsel there.

"Not much."

Voldemort laughed again. "Perfect... perfect, Hermione, I even warned you, I offered you an escape, which I rarely do, and you must still play by my rules." He reached out and stroked Hermione's hair for the purpose of Harry's horrified face. There was no tenderness in the gesture.

"Let me see him, Dumbledore," Voldemort said softly, still stroking Hermione's hair. "I have no intention of harming the boy today."

"What makes you think I would let you have a clear shot at anyone?" Dumbledore replied, blue eyes icy with rage.

---

_Dear Sir Danvers/ As you know, sir_

_I wish Lisa the sun and the moon!_

_But I have to confess/ That I wish Henry Jekyll in hell._

- excerpt from "The Engagement Party" in JEKYLL & HYDE

---

"You fool, you do the same to Hermione at this very moment. Pray, tell me, Potter," Voldemort said, settling back into a very unSnape-like way with his weight on one foot, stroking his chin, "don't you think she has grown beautiful beyond the farthest boundaries of the word? Answer the question, Potter."

His hand withdrew sharply and he swept around Hermione so he could see Harry better. Hermione whipped around and grabbed Voldemort's stolen wrist. He reacted immediately by raising his other hand to strike her. She did not flinch. Voldemort froze.

"Look at her now, Potter," he said tightly. "Answer me."

So Harry looked. Looked away. Looked again.

Then nodded.

"Mmm." Voldemort twisted his wrist from Hermione's grip and relaxed. "She came to my time, Potter. I was the first person she met at Hogwarts."

"Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid were, Lord Voldemort. Don't flatter yourself. If you're going to tell a story, tell it straight."

"Whatever. She encountered me on the train. You would have been proud of her; she was every inch of a Gryffindor. Then she was Sorted into Gryffindor, surprisingly enough. But the Sorting Hat wasn't so sure this time, was he? Actually considered Slytherin a fair choice. You confided in me as much, didn't you, Hermione. And Gryffindor wasn't enough for you, was it? You surpassed Minerva in intelligence and power, and, at the time, you knew more than I did, though your talents favored that intelligence rather than power. But the power was there, wasn't it? Waiting for that subtle nudge.

"Would it startle you, Potter, to know that Gryffindor turned on Hermione? Oh yes, she overshadowed their star, Minerva, so she was pushed aside. I was the only one who bothered with her. I see your eyes widen. I had my reasons."

"Except Hagrid," Hermione interrupted.

"Leave that oaf out of it!" the pseudo-Snape shrieked, sounding more like Voldemort than Snape. Hermione smirked slightly.

"Where were we, Potter?" Voldemort asked, regaining his composure.

"Hermione wasn't accepted with the Gryffindors," Harry answered, his youthful curiosity drawing him into the story. He sensed that there was something rotten in the point Voldemort was trying to make; the Dark Lord was enjoying himself too much. Even Dumbledore and McGonagall were listening intently.

"Ah, yes. Which brings me to Hallowe'en. I feel it my duty to inform you that she told the whole Gryffindor table off and found refuge at the Slytherin table. With me."

"What?!" resonated a voice from one of the walls. A particularly tall red-headed boy stepped forward in indignation.

"Another close friend of yours, Hermione? Come closer, boy, and listen with us."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, embarrassed. Harry had been nodding like he understood. He had confessed to her secretly that the Hat had considered him for Slytherin at his Sorting as well. However, he had told this to only her because he knew he could not tell Ron, who saw everything in stark black and white and let his prejudices affect his judgment far too often. Hermione knew that whatever Voldemort said, Ron, not Harry, would take the news the hardest.

Harry was thinking precisely the same thing.

---

_Oh, God help me!/ God have mercy!_

_Don't let her see!/ Not on our wedding day!_

- excerpt from "The Wedding Reception" in JEKYLL & HYDE

---

"Ron," Harry hissed, "don't be a prat."

"Wait, Harry," Ron said, holding up his hand and gazing intently at Voldemort. "Hermione's been strange ever since she came back, and we both know it. Maybe he can explain."

"Ron, this is Voldemort," Harry insisted. "Snape's bad enough, but when you listen to Voldemort..."

"Shut up, Harry," Ron interjected bitterly.

Voldemort was smiling, peering the conflict through slitted eyes and a twitching mouth. He waited until Ron had directed his attention back to the visage of the Potions Master and until Harry's mouth had dropped open again before continuing his tale.

"You would be appalled to hear what occurred at that table; she impaled one of the boy's hands with a fork and licked off the blood. Then she got confused and left. But from ten on, I had intrigued her. It would interest you, Dumbledore, to know I did succeed in my endeavor to create a potion to separate evil from good with Hermione's help."

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly, "I knew, and I permitted the association to an extent because you aided her creation of the Time Turner."

Voldemort stared insolently at Dumbledore for a few moments. "To an extent, Dumbledore?" For the first time, Voldemort made Snape smile fully with delight. The effect was quite hideous.

"_Quid pro quo_. Yes, I remember. Except for one thing, Dumbledore. I did not know who she was in that time, but she knew perfectly well who I would be."

"I wanted to get home," Hermione muttered sullenly. "Does anyone begrudge me that?"

"Of course not, Hermione," said Dumbledore kindly. He seemed to have completely reconciled to Hermione.

A snort of derision issued from the pseudo-Snape's throat, characteristic and familiar of the stolen body.

"What is your point?" Ron demanded.

"I think we would all like to know that. As of so far, your words have been less than malign by your standards," Professor McGonagall said coldly.

"Always the comic relief, Minerva. I'm touched you remember my usual standards. Tell me, Minerva, do you remember the form Hermione's Animagus took?" Voldemort sat on the edge of the Ravenclaw table and crossed his arms.

Professor McGonagall nodded slowly.

"A jaguar, and a rather beautiful one, strong, subtle, and extremely unlike the egotistical male lion of Gryffindor. And you, a tabby cat. That must have shocked you. I believe it was that afternoon, correct me if I'm wrong, that she listened to me, and obeyed. A small thing, that vial of potion was, but it changed... quite a bit. Didn't it, Hermione?"

"I don't understand," said Ron, shaking his head.

Voldemort acted as though he had not heard this. He was trembling with repression now.

"Potter!" Voldemort suddenly shouted, causing Harry to jump. "Have you ever seen Hermione in all her glory, candlelight flickering against her bare, flushed skin? Because you see, _I have_."

This statement created quite a stir in the Great Hall. Voldemort, utilizing Snape's hypnotic, commanding low resonance had captivated every single student, teacher, and ghost, and hearing that voice say something so atrocious induced the bewilderment and feelings of collective shock that Voldemort had intended. Low mutterings issued from gossips of girls, and the ones who knew her best just stared at Hermione as she fixed Voldemort with a closed countenance, lips pursed and neck tense, her right hand resting lightly on the soft curve of her belly.

Voldemort was staring back at her, concentrating only on her expression, relying on his ears for Dumbledore's and Harry's reactions.

"The night she knew I was performing that last ritual for the HJ7 permanent potion, she came. At my Summoning, but she came just the same. And, most epochal for her, she did not run from the cobra, did she? She let him bite, injecting her with his poison, baring her delicate neck to his taste, opening herself for him. Didn't you, Hermione? Really, Potter, you couldn't have swallowed a story like virgin conception. This slut is no pure maiden, but experience flesh. One of many. And she did not even screw Tom Riddle. No, she gave herself willingly to Lord Voldemort. So what do you think of her now, Harry Potter? Dumbledore, how do you fell about your star pupil now? That child she is carrying is mine, Minerva. Tell me what that does to you?"

Dumbledore had gone rigid; his eyes blazed and his chin was set, but before he could say anything, Harry spoke up.

"Hermione," he said quietly, "it's not true. Tell me it's not true. Tell me he crept into your room, tell me you were sleepwalking, tell me he used Imperius. He couldn't have-- _You_ couldn't have--" He received his answer when a tear fell from the corner of Hermione's eyes and dripped down her cheek onto her robes. "Why?"

Hermione swallowed, then said clearly, "Because he wanted me. And despite what you think, he did not just want me for this." She gestured to his body. "Riddle needed my mind. I was more intelligent than he, he even admits this. He needed my hands that could make a flawless potion, because despite what he told me, he really did need another pair of steady hands. He needed me for my wand that has always listened to my commands. No one here wanted me, whether for companionship or other things. I don't want anyone's pity by confessing, but I want to say this:

"Even now, I don't regret the decision I made. I'm sorry for what it does to you, Harry, Ron, because I love you both... but I wouldn't deny what I did."

---

_Sympathy-- Tenderness/ Warm as the summer/ Offer me their embrace._

_Friendliness-- Gentleness/ Strangers to my life/ They are there in his face._

_Goodness and sweetness/ And kindness/ Abound in this place..._

_I am in love/ With the things that I see/ In his face..._

_It's a memory I know/ Time with never erase..._

- "Sympathy-- Tenderness" from JEKYLL & HYDE

---

"However," Hermione said softly, taking a step toward Voldemort, "Lord Voldemort was rather selective with his memory. He seems to have forgotten that it took his pursual to lead to my decision. He seems to have forgotten that from the very beginning, he was attracted to me, even when I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with him. And need I remind you, Lord Voldemort, of your letter? Not the recent one, one written long ago. Granted, I can't use it as evidence; I threw it into the Gryffindor fireplace and watched it burn. But I believe it was your hands that wrote of your sex attempts on others that elicited no response, and I was the first, and..." she continued, now directly in front of Voldemort. He was shifting uncomfortably. "...I think I'm your only."

Harry, Ron, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were observing Voldemort's reaction with inscrutable looks on their faces. Dumbledore was particularly bemused by the predicament.

Snape's face shifted slightly, revealing some of Voldemort's real features. Hermione ran a hand up his collar. For a moment-- perhaps from the unfamiliarity of her touch on a different body, or maybe it was the flood of far past emotions sweeping down his body-- he stiffened. But as Hermione slid her hand under the robes, gently caressing the bare skin, he involuntarily licked his lips and the skin shifted again. Snape's ponderous nose was receding until the nostrils were only slits and his eyes turned bright red.

But the incongruencies on Snape were forgotten in the shock of seeing Hermione press her lips against Voldemort's mouth. Even more astonishing was that Voldemort kissed her back, moaning slightly at the contact which he had been denied for fifty years.

Hermione, too, was once again imbued with desire of being in that bed with him, but she sagely thought that if they took off their clothes here, they might cause more scandal than was necessary. Besides, sex was not the reason for this seduction.

_He's vulnerable, you idiots_, she silently willed the crowded Great Hall as she slipped her tongue into Voldemort's mouth. He eagerly took it and entwined it with his own, and Hermione nearly melted from the fire spreading beat through her veins and permeating through her skin and against Voldemort, whose Polyjuice Potion had worn off finally. She could feel his hands groping ungently for her sore breast. Gathering that the others were not jumping at their perfect opportunity, she reluctantly withdrew, first running her mouth against the curve of his neck.

"Yuck," Ron said suddenly, utterly revolted.

Hermione was not paying attention; she was rapidly trying to think of another way to make Voldemort vulnerable again. She began to think it might take stripping to wake these gaping fish.

"Remember now, Tom," murmured Hermione.

"All too well," hissed Voldemort, shaking with restraint. He looked slightly ridiculous in Snape's clothes tailored for a much larger frame, but the energy from his and Hermione's emotions crackled like electricity around them, and even Dumbledore revealed that he was impressed with the formidability.

"I cultivated that child. And I cultivated you perfectly, Hermione. I took you from the innocent bookworm you were and showed you that you had worth, which is more than Potter here ever did. I unleashed your power and let it run rampant. I gave myself to you, but stayed away enough that you began to come to me. Then, when I had finished with your mind, I started with your already sinful-beautiful body." He touched her belly where the child was. "I almost believed that you wouldn't take the Enhancement Potion, but you proved me wrong, my dear, and you blossomed much better than I had deliciously anticipated. You look like a goddess, and I did it. You fell into every last place, Hermione."

"I liked your first form better," Hermione said. "This one has delusions of grandeur." She raised her wand and dropped it onto the floor, stretching out her fingers, eyes closed. At the tips of her fingers appeared a faint green light. "Because, Voldemort, you fool yourself into thinking you've created the greatest minion, when really, you've created your most powerful foe. Most of your power you know comes from my and my assistance. I inadvertedly gave you the secret of unicorn blood, I believe it was. Before you made love to me, you asked me a question. 'Would you like my power, Hermione?' And you gave that power to me, and it has multiplied enough to nourish our child. You have made the largest blunder you could ever have made, even greater than trying to kill Harry all these years. Since no one seems to notice that I have completely distracted you for about fifteen minutes now as I ramble on, I suppose I'll have to take charge myself. Yes, you have cultivated me, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I no longer mind killing you."

"Wait!" shouted Harry simultaneously with Snape, looking dead on his feet. But Snape gave Harry such a glare than Harry rose up in indignation.

"Who are you to tell me to shut up about my own best friend?!" Harry said angrily.

"Because if you had been a good friend in the first place, none of us would be here, yelling at each other, threatening to kill a Dark Lord who shouldn't have come within a hundred miles of Hogwarts. That's why!" Snape retorted, pushing away his damp hair. It seemed that he had sweat the poison out.

"Why, Severus," Voldemort exclaimed, "I did not think you cared as well. How fantastically unexpected."

Snape curled his lip at his former master in disgust. "You think my interest in the girl is as shallow as romantic? And I heard that you were once clever. Age seems to be catching up with you, old boy."

"_Crucio_!" Voldemort screamed. Snape jumped out of the way just in time.

"Even when you have a vision of greatness," Snape continued mockingly, "you were still insane."

Hermione joined in, a cat's... no, a jaguar's smile playing at the edges of her lips. "Yes, I remember how subtle you once were, how intelligent and beautiful, but look at you now. You're going senile."

Harry stepped forward. "Your sixteen-year-old memory told me truthfully that I am just a lucky boy, rather ordinary with no real magical talent. But somehow, each time I face you, I came away alive. That ought to show you how diminished you are." He grinned at Hermione and at Snape's surprise at his confession.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" The curse was true in its aim, but something seemed to extinguish its potency midway. Voldemort whipped around to find Hermione grinning with her hand clenched into a fist, green light practically radiating from the cracks between her fingers. The light slowly faded, and Hermione dropped what appeared to be a tiny skull.

"And the ironic thing is," Hermione said casually, "you gave me the power to defeat you."

Voldemort's eyes widened. For the first time in his life, he began to flee.

Dumbledore blocked his escape exuding power twice greater than Voldemort's.

"By giving yourself to Hermione, you have made yourself more vulnerable than you can possibly imagine. By remembering her, you have put yourself at a great disadvantage. You no longer put your focus entirely on caution, strategy, and, above all, control."

"You will not kill me, fool, unless you want to become what you fought so hard to evade. You might actually become a hypocrite."

"I didn't want to Aurors to virtually become Death Eaters, but killing you is justice."

Voldemort was amazed to see the truth of Dumbledore's words and the determination on his face. Dumbledore's resolve was not something he had calculated during his planning. He only had enough time to realize his mistake before...

"Ahhhh!" he screeched.

Dumbledore started. He had not even lifted his wand. He swept his eyes over the room, but everyone else was just as astonished.

But as Voldemort turned, Dumbledore could see a tiny skull that had embedded itself into the fleshy part of Voldemort's neck. Hermione was holding her arm, aching from the strain.

Voldemort did not have enough time to be startled. The pain ripped through him like hundreds of double-edged, serrated knives, and his skin was burning with cold fire. The skin began splitting from the top of his skull, blood dripping down his face in gouting streams. His face cracked open in half, abruptly cutting off his scream, but by now the Hogwarts students had taken up the cry. His tendons stretched and tore away with sickening sounds and revealed his innards in his torso; then he completely and audibly split and he collapsed onto the floor in a pool of his own blood. His brain was still connected to the medulla oblongata and spinal cord, though the bones had turned into dust. They were quivering as the cerebrum burned a bright red like a coal. The crimson was concentrated near the back, but soon it had invaded the entire brain and spinal cord.

Then, from the spinal cord erupted nerves like tendrils and ivory bone formed around the cord and brain, then extended outward into extremities, and tendons shot out, expanding into muscles. Veins slithered along their channels and skin began to spread like diseases, and organs inflated the body so it had shape.

And a naked, shivering Tom Riddle, himself, not a part, was left sprawling face-down on the floor, seventeen-years-old and covered with blood like a newborn baby. He had not aged a day since the first transformation.

When Hermione realized who and what was lying on the floor, she grabbed a spare cloak from the back of a Ravenclaw chair and threw it on top of his white flesh spattered with crimson. She knelt down and put his arms around him, lifting him upright.

Riddle continued trembling, and the shaking wracked his entire body with violent convulsions. He leaned in toward Hermione's warmth. His lips were blue, and his hands clenched against her wrists.

Once Dumbledore recovered from the initial shock, he murmured to Snape, "Get Madam Pomfrey. He's freezing." Snape nodded silently and slid out of the room.

"Hermione," Riddle said through chattering teeth.

"Shhh," Hermione whispered against his ear. "Don't speak. You'll be all right. You don't have to say anything right now."

She held him closer, calming his tremors.

She saw the Dark Mark on his arm, a crude form of it, but there. Her fingers caressed the tattoo. It did not fade under her touch, but Hermione felt better.

Especially when freezing lips kissed her shoulder, as gently as he could.

888

-_I think I've taken enough for one day!/ And I have learned to my cost_

_It's not the fun that it might be/ Once you have lost!_

-excerpt from "Lucy Meets Jekyll" in JEKYLL & HYDE

-_When I came to myself at Lanyon's, the horror of my old friend perhaps affected me somewhat: I do not know; it was at least but a drop in the sea to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon these hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fear of the gallows, it was the horror of being Hyde that racked me._

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

888888

(This is a very weirdly formatted chapter; I hope you can follow it.)

**Chapter 19: You May Have Every Dance**

---

-_There was a pause, during which Mr. Utterson struggled with himself. "Why did you compare them, Guest?" he inquired suddenly._

_"Well, sir," returned the clerk, "there's a rather singular resemblance; the two hands are in many points identical: only differently sloped."_

-_...and I began to spy a danger that, if this were much prolonged, the balance of my nature might be permanently overthrown, the power of voluntary change be forfeited, and the character of Edward Hyde become irrevocably mind._

-Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

---

Hermione?

_Yes, I'm here._

W-where am I?

_The hospital wing. According to Dumbledore, splitting yourself and growing up in less than five minutes can't be healthy, and I don't think Madam Pomfrey will ever let you out of here._

She always was paranoid.

_Tom?_

Yes?

_What happened? The manifestation of the Killing Curse should have killed you._

It did. One of me. Voldemort's last potion was a genuine potion for immortality. However, something he never expected was that immortality was not his real goal. Invincibility was going to be his ultimate achievement in the end. So Voldemort still lives actually-- he has always lived in me-- but he is eternally weakened within me. I'm still what I was before the initial HJ7 potion, but now Voldemort cannot ever arise again to take me over. You see, contrary to popular belief, Voldemort was under my control before the potion, the manifestation of my evil side. Everyone has a bit of Voldemort in them. But the potion permitted that small part to rise, not eliminate me all together. When Voldemort was in command, I was still there; I shared his memories because they were my memories, part of my memories. But I also had memories of being trapped. Keep in mind, I was never all good, just as Jekyll was never all good. All of that was probably more than you wanted to know, and most of it still probably didn't make sense, but I've had roughly fifty years to contemplate it.

As Voldemort perfected the potion, more and more of him was extract from my person. You might say that the Voldemort you knew at this time was the most concentrated Voldemort. But like all evil, he had a great love of life and feared death more than anything. Without me to withdraw into, he had to be cautious, but it is extremely difficult for evil to destroy it's desire for destruction and mayhem and depravity. I was trapped in my own pathetic excuse for a body, biding my time, waiting for Voldemort to make that fatal slip.

_Here, Tom._

What's this?

_Hot chocolate._

It's not medichocolate, is it? I've had enough of that I could throw up.

_No, it's just Dumbledore's secret recipe. I think it's a peace offering, if you'll accept it._

Mmm. Secret recipe, huh? I'm sure I could get the recipe from the house elves...

_Nope. Professor Dumbledore purposely makes it himself so people exposed to it will have to come back to him for more. That way he gets to talk to people more often... Tom?_

Mm-hm.

_Have you changed at all?_

Yes, Hermione. But not as much as you hope, I think. I've killed enough people to last a lifetime, so I'll never directly or indirectly cause another's death, but I'm still Slytherin's own Heir. I know I'm cruel sometimes. I know I'm unfeeling and insensitive sometimes. And I don't care. One thing I despised about Voldemort is his lack of control. _I_ am wary, cautious, and careful. Voldemort was far more impulsive than most knew. How do you think Dumbledore will react to this new revelation that I'm mostly the old Tom Riddle?

_I think he knows, Tom, but he's hoping you've changed enough that you won't kill or torture anyone anymore._

Ten assure him I won't... Hermione?

_Mm-hm._

Kiss me.

888

-_I've have had a lesson-- O God, Utterson, what a lesson I have had!"_

- Stevenson's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

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THE END

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**Explanations Essay**

If you could, listen to the music on this one, it's rather stirring and it just makes the right feeling. This song is the reason for this entire work.

_I need to know/ The nature of the demons that possess/ Man's soul!_

_I need to know/ Why man's content to let them make him less than/ Whole._

_Why does he revel in murder and madness?/ What is it makes him be less than he should?_

_Why is he doomed not to reach his potential?_

_His soul is black/ when he turns his back/ Upon good._

_I need to find/ A way to get inside the tortured mind of man._

_I need to try/ To separate the good and evil-- If I can._

_One thing is certain-- The evil is stronger/ Good fights a hopeless and desperate fight._

_I must find ways of adjusting the balance_

_To bring him back from the empty black/ Edge of night._

_I need to go/ Where no man has ventured before_

_To search for the key to the door/ That will end all this tragic and senseless decay!_

_But how to go?/ I need to know!_

_I need to learn/ The secrets of the mind that we cannot discern._

_I need to learn/ The things that make men pass the point of no return._

_Why does a wise man take leave of his senses?/ Where is that fine line where sanity melts?_

_When does intelligence give way to madness?_

_A moment comes/ When a man becomes/ Something else..._

_I need to know!/ Why man plays this strange double game!_

_His hand always close to the flame!_

_It's a deal with the devil he cannot disclaim!_

_But what's his aim?/ I need to know!_

_Dear God, guide me/ Show me how to succeed!_

_With your wisdom inside me.../ Henry Jekyll will follow wherever you lead!_

_I need to see/ The truth other men cannot see_

_To be things that others can't be/ Give me courage to go_

_Where no angel will go/ And I will go!_

_I need to know!_

"I Need to Know" from JEKYLL & HYDE

I've actually been batting 'round the idea of integrating the Jekyll and Hyde theme into a novel, but after someone (mistakenly) told me that would be plagiarism (due to the fact he's been dead for more than fifty years), I was discouraged from it. Then fan fiction came into my life and opened many, many doors for me, and while listening to "I Need to Know" I said to myself, _Hey, this is something I could sing to Voldemort_, and Dangerous Games began.

I didn't start out much of a Hermione/Voldemort/Tom shipper. I wasn't pleased with a lot of them. (I'm now the ship's Reality Enforcement Officer: They've gotten too loosy-goosy with the characters.) I've yet to read Clairvoyant Snake's Don't Repeat History! so that I wouldn't copy anything inadvertedly from her. But after listening several hundred times to JEKYLL & HYDE, I decided that due to disclaimer freedom, I could write it.

While Tom Riddle/Voldemort are certainly up there in my favorite character list, Hermione is most definitely not. I'm not sure whether I just resent her convenient existence, or whether she reminds me too much of a caricatured me. But my dislike for her, not as a person, but as a character, let me be much more objective with what she went through and what she became, so in the end, I think she was okay.

Many of my musings on the nature of Jekyll/Hyde and Riddle/Voldemort found their subtle or not-so-subtle way into the fic, such as exactly what they are in respect to their darker self, how they reacted to the potion, and just how confusing it is to point fingers. Though perfection of the potion was not in the original book, I thought the original Hyde imperfect, and certainly not pure evil, which is, in my theory, utterly humanly impossible. So the following isn't true, but misconception:

_Hyde, alone in the ranks of mankind, is pure evil._

_As Jekyll, I can share in the pleasures and wickedness of Hyde..._

_As Hyde, I care only for myself/ And nothing for Jekyll!_

Strictly speaking, Hyde's apathy for his original self is his downfall, just as Voldemort's downfall is his original.

A few other misconceptions maybe addressed in this fic:

Jekyll is not good, as many people make him out to be. He was not looking for a potion that would make him good, but one that would take his baser nature and let it run rampant, allowing him to do things he couldn't as gentlemanly Jekyll. In fact, _Jekyll's morals are poor from the Victorian point of view. He is a hypocritical creature carefully concealing his sins_. In fact, Jekyll does not 'turn into' Hyde in the sense of transfiguration, he merely projects his evil in the form of Hyde. Jekyll is still there, sharing his memories, which denounces that 'pure' evil bit, simply because Jekyll didn't disappear, just as Hyde was always a part of him.

My reasons for the Hyde are somewhat similar to Stevenson's: _Of all wrongs in the world, Stevenson most hated cruelty; and the inhuman brute whom he imagines is shown not in his beastly lusts, whatever they specifically were, but in his savage indifference..._

You know, the DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE we read today is subtly frightening enough. But Stevenson's actually wrote one before it, in specifically three days time, and showed it to his wife, who told him that since it was so horrific, he should throw it in the fire, as he did, which, as a fellow author, must have been agonizing. Anyway, he couldn't let the subject alone and wrote DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE from scratch, adding the moral for his wife's sake. So it makes you wonder just how awful the first one was. And the story of his death is rather strange: _And there is something in Stevenson's death in 1894 on Samoa, imitating in a curious way the wine theme and the transformation theme of his fantasy. He went down to the cellar to fetch a bottle of his favorite burgundy, uncorked it in the kitchen, and suddenly cried out to his wife: what's the matter with me, what is this strangeness, has my face changed?-- and fell to the floor... What, has my face changed? There is a curious thematical link between this last episode in Stevenson's life and the fateful transformation in his most wonderful book._

You know, now that I'm finished, I'm imbued with a sense of relief, partially because I don't have to type the word 'Jekyll' anymore-- I don't think I've typed it right the first time once. But also because it was one I wanted to write for some time, and now the plot bunnicula can finally stop sucking my blood, waiting for me to write it out.

I'm glad so many people have liked it, and I'd like to thank _everyone_ who read and review it. I'm sorry to see you all go. If you'd like a personal thank you, refer to it in your reviews. Any discussion of Dangerous Games can be... well, discussed at a thread in my review forum.

But after all,

_We mustn't be afraid of letting go!_

-excerpt from "Letting Go" in JEKYLL & HYDE

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FINI

Stevenson, Robert. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (with the Introductory Essay by Nabokov, Vladimir). Signet Classic. New York: 1978.

The Complete Work of Jekyll & Hyde. Composed by Frank Wildhorn. Lyrics by Leslie Bricusse. Starring Carolee Carmello, Linda Eder, and Anthony Warlow. Produced by Alley Theatre and Theatre Under the Stars. Recorded by Atlantic Theatre.


End file.
